


Break my fall

by anarchyarmin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Skating, Annie and Mikasa are slightly evil, Anxiety, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Bertolt is everyone's mom, Bisexual Jean Kirstein, Both Eren's and Armin's points of view, Exhibitionism, Figure skater!Armin, Fluff, Hockey Player!Eren, Levi is kinda creepy and he knows it, M/M, Marco is Italian and flamboyant, Masturbation, Minor Levi/Erwin Smith, Russian Levi, There's a plot in there somewhere underneath all that fluff, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 77,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchyarmin/pseuds/anarchyarmin
Summary: Eren's teammates call him the Jaeger Bomb: he's not the largest guy on the Trost Titans hockey team, just completely ruthless. When he gets a crush on a figure skater who trains with his sister's coach, he realizes his physical opponents are a piece of cake compared to his own awkwardness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All the SNK blogs I follow are posting Yuri on Ice stuff now. I still haven't watched YOI, but since it's starting to get real cold, and I wanted to take a little break from my monstrous Eruri fic, I figured I'd indulge in a cheesy little Eremin ice skating AU. Hope you enjoy:)

"Hey, Jaeger. What's your sister doing this weekend?"

Eren stops walking and scowls at Jean. "Skating, you idiot. Practice. Like she does literally every single weekend." He starts again, glowering. "You don't even like Mikasa, you just say that to piss me off."

"Uh, no, that's not true; your sister's super hot, and it's not my fault you're so sensitive about it."

Eren pokes the center of Jean's chest. "If you touch her, I swear to god, I'm gonna' rip your dick off." Eren squints. "If she doesn't do it first," he adds coldly.

"All right, let's cool it on the ripping of dicks," Erwin says, appearing from nowhere behind them. He clasps each of them by the shoulder. They go rigid. "Now, what do I always tell you?"

"Save it for the ice," they say in unison.

"Exactly." Erwin smiles. "Now. What do we all want more than to dismember each other?"

Eren doesn't like this tone of his coach's, where he can't tell what's a joke and what isn't. "To beat Crystal Lake," he says sheepishly.

"Good answer." Erwin claps him on the back. "All right. Go home, get some sleep. I'll see you two tomorrow."

Eren shoots Jean a nasty look once Erwin is out of sight, then turns to the far end of the Iceplex.

A flock of onlookers from the busy public session on the east rink crowds around the window to the south. Only a half-dozen skaters take the ice, executing complicated figures. Eren is disappointed to see that Mikasa is still one of them. He hoists his bag higher up on his shoulder and pushes open the door to the rink. Mikasa skates over to the edge to meet him.

"Mika, what are you doing," Eren groans. "We gotta' go."

Mikasa's face is lit up with excitement. "Eren, I did it!" She throws her arms around him. "I did it! I landed my triple!"

"Whoa. Wow," Eren says as Mikasa releases him.

"I nailed it," Mikasa growls, clenching fists and drawing them toward her.

"Mika, that's awesome," Eren grins. "But we gotta' go."

"I know, I know. Sorry. I'll go change. Wait for me."

Eren slumps down on the bleachers by the edge of the ice and picks at his phone. Mikasa's coach, Levi, stands stoically in the corner, watching his skaters. He wears a stiff black coat with a high collar that makes him look less like a skating coach to Eren and more like an assassin. Levi looks at Eren with his creepy light eyes and gives a nod of acknowledgement. Eren's face flushes; he looks immediately back down at his phone. He's always found Levi unnervingly attractive. But always just a little bit harsh.

A flash of blonde catches Eren's eye. A skater in a standing split flies past him. Eren looks again. Oh. No, that's definitely a boy, Eren realizes, and one he's never seen at the rink before. He feels his heart rate quicken. The young man comes out of an elaborate spin and Levi nods approvingly. Eren watches them talk. They stand at about the same height, taller in their skates, the blonde one in a light blue sweatshirt and gloriously tight black pants. The contour of his pert butt and toned legs stands out sharply against the white of the ice. In spite of the chill of the rink, Eren feels himself sweating. Mikasa picked a good day to run late.

Levi meets Mikasa in the atrium before she and Eren leave, the blades of his skates silent against the thick rubber tiles. His movements are slow and deliberate, like some kind of small wildcat, Eren thinks.

"Eren, you should be so proud of your sister," Levi says in his thick Russian accent. "I think she is going to qualify for nationals."  
Mikasa beams. Levi opens the calendar on his phone.

"So you are coming in at six tomorrow," he says. "And also on Monday." Mikasa nods. "Ok. Very good. We will get a lot done."

Levi catches Erwin's eye from across the wide room. Erwin walks over and crosses his arms.

"You should stay away from this man," Erwin says sternly to Eren, nodding in Levi's direction. Eren laughs uneasily, still not sure whether his coach is joking. "He'll talk you into figure skating."

Levi smiles devilishly. "I have seen your hockey skaters practice," he says. "They are better skaters than the synchro team."

Erwin laughs. On the west rink, a line of skaters falls like dominoes.

Levi turns to Eren. "When you get tired of knocking other people's teeth out, come see me." Levi's eyes cut through him. "I will make you a champion." Levi and Erwin laugh.

Eren grins awkwardly, speechless. In that moment, he'd rather have a tooth knocked out than have adults laughing at him.

"Ok, I will let you go now," Levi turns to Mikasa and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Good night, Kashka."

Eren looks over his shoulder as they walk toward the parking lot. He didn't know their coaches knew each other. Just as they turn the corner, he sees Erwin drape an arm around Levi's shoulders. He stops.

"Eren, come on," Mikasa says, rolling her skate bag behind her.

"Yeah. Sorry." He shakes his head and pushes open the heavy door to the complex. They shove their bags in the back of their mother's silver Land Rover. A few flakes of snow line the edges of the windows. The night air is crisp and sharp.

"Do you want to drive or should I?" Mikasa asks.

"I'll do it." Eren climbs in the driver's seat.

"Oh my god, my butt hurts," Mikasa whines as she pulls the door shut. "I think I fell like fifty times today." She leans back in her seat. "Totally worth it."

Eren smiles. Mikasa groans and shifts. "I got a bruise on my butt the size of Texas," she says.

"Ok, I'm real happy for you and all, but there are some things I don't need to know." Eren turns out of the parking lot.

"Huge ol' bruise," she continues. "Covers both cheeks."

"Mika, shut up."

Mikasa chuckles to herself. She hashes out excited texts to Annie, grinning all the way home. Eren drives on autopilot, dazed. He tries to focus on the road, but the image of a blonde boy in tight pants keeps skating through his mind.

**

Eren shuts off the alarm on his phone and slaps it back down on the night table. His mother leans against the door frame in yoga pants and a down jacket, clutching her thermos of coffee.

"Eren. Sweetheart," Carla says in her loving but don't-you-dare-argue-with-me tone, "I have been taking you and your sister to skating rinks since you were five years old. I would like to do a sport myself." She covets a spot in her favorite 7 AM kickboxing class, before her anesthesiology shift starts. "You can pick up your sister from practice."

"Mom, why," Eren groans into his pillow.

"What happened to mister 'I can't wait to drive?'" She says. "Besides. You need the practice." Eren passed his driving test on the fifth attempt. "And it's the least you can do after Mika drove you around everywhere for six months."

Eren lies in bed like a slug.

"Eren, get up." Carla pulls the blankets off of him. He curls up in a fetal position. "Get dressed and go pick up your sister."

**

The North Point Iceplex is strangely quiet in the morning, but not nearly as quiet as Eren would have expected. Someone opens the door to the west rink and Eren hears a ferocious grunt. The women's hockey club is doing drills.

He's running late. He walks into the north rink and braces himself for an impatient Mikasa. There's no one there. The massive clock on the wall reads 7:12. It's oppressively early, Eren thinks, but it's the only time she can get private ice. Levi and the blonde skater from before enter the rink from the door on the opposite side. The young man doesn't seem to notice Eren; he stretches against the low wall of the rink like a ballet barre. Levi skates over to Eren and smiles an evil smile.

"Eren," he says, crossing his arms. "I see you have come back to me. So you have changed your mind?" Eren freezes. Levi laughs to himself. "I am just kidding you, of course," he says before Eren can respond, still frozen in Levi's wicked gaze. "Erwin tells me you are his fiercest player. I would never take you from him." In spite of his joking, Levi's voice has an urgency to it that leaves Eren confused. Levi pulls a small remote control from his pocket and points it toward the sound system. Eren recognizes the opening bars of DeVotchKa's cover of _Venus in Furs_. "Your sister will be ready in a minute," Levi explains. "We have gone a little over on our time. We are making a lot of progress, you see."

Levi turns back to his student. The boy's blades flicker under the bright lights, drawing complicated patterns in the ice. He launches himself into an axel a few feet from Eren's face. Eren stands mesmerized. He's watched his sister and her friends skate for years; he's no stranger to artistic skating, by now even a decent judge. And this, he thinks, is beautiful. A beautiful program executed by an even more beautiful skater.

"Hey! Thanks for coming to get me." Mikasa walks up next to Eren. "Hey," she nudges his shoulder. "Eren. I'm ready, we can go now."

The music fades. The skater kneels with the back of his palm to the ice in a dramatic gesture, his cheeks flushed with exertion. He stands up slowly and catches Eren's gaze. He smiles.

"Eren. Let's go."

"What?" Eren flinches, breaking eye contact. "Oh. Yeah, sorry."

A mischievous smile spreads across Mikasa's face. She waves to Levi and his other student as they leave the rink. They wave back. Eren catches one more blue glance as he walks through the door.

"Who was that?" Armin asks.

"That is Kashka's brother, Ehren."

Armin watches them disappear from view. Mikasa mentioned having a brother who played hockey. Armin had just expected him to be half-Japanese.

"Arya," Levi grins smugly. "He is cute, but we are here to skate."

Armin blushes and takes the center of the ice. Levi clicks the remote again.

Mikasa turns to Eren. "You see something you like back there?" She gives him a little nudge.

"That was just...a really strong program."

Mikasa laughs. "Eren, that was a warm up!"

"What?"

"Levi always makes us improvise to warm up. It helps us get ideas for choreography."

Eren unlocks the car, dumbfounded.

"Armin just moved here to skate with Levi."

"Whoa, seriously? From where?"

"China. He was doing a tour for a year. Shows and stuff. He came back because he wants to compete again."

"That's awesome."

"Yeah," Mikasa says, giving him a sidelong glance and a wicked smile. "You should ask him about it sometime."

Eren feels a little rush of adrenaline, like falling on the ice.


	2. Chapter 2

The atrium is filled with noise on a Friday night. Armin realizes it's been a while since he's been in a space filled with chatter in English instead of Mandarin. Visitors pack the east and west rinks, tottering along, laughing, making conga lines. Digital explosions and bleeps and bloops ricochet from the dark arcade at one end of the hall. A half dozen birthday parties occupy the long tables at the other. Through the skylights, Armin notices the snow falling. He smiles.

"So what do you think?" Mikasa asks. "You guys going to try it?"

"I don't know," he says. "I've seen Annie skate. She's really good. It'd probably be a lot of fun." He glances around. "Honestly, it's the lifts and throws I'm worried about. I'm not sure I can even pick her up." There had been brief talk of Armin and Annie doing a pairs routine.

"Oh, I bet you could." Mikasa tries to be encouraging. "Huh. I wonder if _I_ could." Now she wants to find out. She makes a mental note: lift Annie off the ground the next time you see her. "But I can't really say I blame you. She's...not exactly someone you want to drop."

"Yeah. That's the impression I get."

The woman at the cafe pours them two scalding cups of tea. Even with the cardboard sleeve on his cup, Armin's grateful for his gloves. "Mm, great," he says. "This'll be cool enough to drink by the time the rink closes."

Mikasa grins. The tea is from Levi's orders: no sugar, except on special occasions.

"What counts as a special occasion?" Armin asked him on his first day of training.

"When you win a medal," Levi said, looking off into the distance. "But then you celebrate with vodka. Like a champion."

Armin had been unsure whether Levi was kidding.

"Arya," Levi said, "Without our art, life is only a long march to the grave. We must be dedicated," he declared with a decisive hiss and turned Armin's long program music back on.

"Hey guys!" Sasha trots over to them, her blades covered by glittery green skate guards. She hugs each of them, and Armin realizes the only creature he's really touched since his arrival back in the states is his grandfather's fluffy cat, Rosalyn.

"What's that?" She looks at their paper cups.

"Oh. More tea," Mikasa explains. "Levi seems to think it gives you superpowers."

Sasha makes a face. "I'm getting hot chocolate."

She leans against the window with her feet propped up, sitting on a carpeted bench; Mikasa and Armin sit across from her. The hockey practice rages on behind her.

"I still totally can't believe you were in Disney on Ice," she says. "That's so amazing. I've seriously always wanted to do that."

Armin doesn't have the heart to tell her she's probably still a few years away from making the auditions. "Yeah, it was...all right," he says. "I met some cool people. It gets kind of old doing the same thing after a while, though."

Mikasa sighs. "Man, I get tired of doing the same three-minute program," she says. "I can't even imagine doing a whole show."

"It's always a little different every time. And from city to city. I liked the traveling part," Armin says. "And the getting paid."

"Yeahhh," Sasha's eyes widen.

"My dad jokes that we spent all my college money on skating lessons and traveling for competitions, so now I have to earn it back."

Mikasa looks horrified. "That's not funny at all."

Armin laughs weakly. The money had never been an issue. But after such an expensive and demanding childhood, earning some money of his own had soothed Armin's guilt; it made him feel like he had made good on the investment.

Two hockey players slam into the plexiglass wall behind Sasha with a loud thunk. She turns around.

"God, those guys are a bunch of animals," Mikasa says.

Well, yes, Armin thinks; but what kind of animals? And do any of them like boys? He shrugs. "Yeah, well, at least they're getting trained."

"Did you ever play?" Sasha asks him.

"Oh, god. For like, a year, when I was little. I hated it. I was terrible at it."

"You know the first time we put Eren in ice skates, he threw a fit. He hung onto the wall the whole time and said he never wanted to go skating again," Mikasa says.

"Good thing he grew out of it." Armin looks discreetly past Sasha, but he can't tell the players apart with their helmets and heavy gear.

"Oh, and I'm sure you were such a natural," Sasha says.

"I was." Mikasa puffs up her chest facetiously. "The adoption agency said I did a triple lutz out of the womb."

"You are awful," Sasha snorts into her hot chocolate. "And this is why we are friends."

She's adopted. Of course, Armin thinks. "Totally didn't realize that was your brother this morning," he says, trying to be casual.

Mikasa laughs. "Oh, yeah, don't worry, that wasn't just some rando neighborhood creeper checking you out."

"Like Eren's much better," Sasha says.

Armin is dismayed. "Wait, what did he do?"

"Besides have his head up his ass for seventeen straight years?" Mikasa muses.

" _Straight_ years?" Sasha gives her a look. Armin's not sure whether to get his hopes up.

"Hah, fair." Mikasa smiles. "He's just a loser." She turns to Armin and clamps her hand over her heart. "We take it upon ourselves to protect the uninitiated."

"It's funny 'cause they're really like this," Sasha whispers, crossing her fingers.

"I gotta' figure out what kind of voodoo magic Mom worked this morning to get him to come get me. Honestly, seeing him awake any time before the last possible minute is like...I don't know, some kind of freak occurrence, like seeing an albino alligator or something."

The players file off of the rink, except for one. Connie runs out into the atrium, his helmet under his arm.

"Sashaaaa!" He gives her a big, sweaty hug and a loud, sloppy kiss on the cheek. "You coming to Reiner's?"

"Yup."

Connie makes finger guns at Mikasa. "You coming to Reiner's?"

"Oh my god, no," Mikasa says. "I got up at like five today, I'm going home and sleeping!"

Connie looks confused. "Ohhh...oh, shit, that's right!" He points at her. "Nationals," he whispers excitedly. She nods. "You guys are doing like, boot camp and stuff now, right?"

"Pretty much."

Connie turns to Armin and squints. "You I haven't met." He sticks out his hand and grins. "Connie."

Armin shakes it. "Armin. Good to meet you." At least one of them is friendly, Armin thinks. That's a good sign.

"Wait a second..." Connie points again, remembering Sasha's excited gushing. "Disney prince?" He looks at Armin, then back at Sasha.

"I'm sure I've been every one of them," Armin says. "Except maybe the one from Mulan."

"Aw, man, that is awesome! I am like, the biggest Disney fan ever, oh my god."

"Don't get him started," Mikasa says softly.

"Mikasa knows what I'm talking about!" he shouts.

"Springer!" Mike's voice booms from the other side of the window.

"Aw, shit, I gotta go." He kisses Sasha again. "I'll see you later?" He asks. She nods. "Good stuff." He turns to Armin and Mikasa and waves with both hands. "Adios." He clomps back into the men's locker room.

"Wow," Armin says. "What a character."

"He's my favorite." Sasha downs the rest of her chocolate. "You could probably come to this thing tonight, you know."

Armin feels a flicker of nervous excitement. "I gotta be at Navy Pier at eight," he says. "Rehearsal."

"You're doing another show?" Mikasa asks. "You just got back!"

Armin rubs his forefinger and thumb together.

"Damn," Sasha says. "Go get 'em. You'll have to come next time."

"That would be great," Armin says, not sure which feeling is stronger: the warmth of being included, or a faint terror at hanging out with Connie's hockey player friends.

**

"Quit staring at my ass," Eren snaps at Jean.

"Why don't you quit waving it in my face and put some fucking pants on." Jean pulls on his shirt and reaches in his locker for his jacket.

Reiner walks over and stands between them. "How about you two just hook up already, and spare us the whining."

Jean grumbles; Eren rolls his eyes and scoffs.

Bert lays his hand on Reiner's shoulder. "Just because you want to watch doesn't mean it's a good idea," he says softly. Reiner cackles. "No, I'm serious," Bert half-whispers. "You think they're bad now. Just wait." He sighs. "Anyways. You guys coming over later?" Bert asks Jean and Eren. He zips up his jacket and pulls his bag onto his shoulder.

"Yeah," Eren says. "I gotta give Mikasa a ride home first."

"I can drive her," Jean says.

Eren scowls. "That reminds me. Been meaning to cut your break lines."

Bert leans in again. "Am I going to have to separate you two?"

Eren rolls his eyes again.

"Eren, your eyes are gonna' get stuck like that if you keep doing that," Bert says gently, smiling.

"God damn it, Bert." Eren groans, but he can't help but smile. Their enormously tall goalkeeper is unofficially the team mother hen. Eren trudges out into the atrium. He spots a blonde head behind Mikasa's, and freezes. He edges up to the rows of benches. "Hey," he says, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just need to get my bag," Mikasa says. "Give me a second." She gets up, leaving Eren defenseless. Sasha tries to conceal her widening grin and just purses her lips awkwardly.

"Oh. Hey," Eren reaches out his hand. "I'm Eren."

"Armin." He stands up. He has a pleasantly firm handshake, Eren thinks, almost holding his hand more than shaking it, as if they were on a ropes course. In his skates, he's eye level with Eren, which would make him a little shorter without them...

Eren catches himself staring and releases Armin's hand. "Uh, so...Mika said you moved here to skate with Levi?"

Then she told you about me, Armin realizes. Which means maybe you asked about me. "Yeah." He touches the back of his neck for no reason. Sasha suppresses a little snort.

"I mean, I knew he was good, but I didn't know he was, like, famous." Eren immediately detests the sound of his own voice.

"Oh, yeah, no, he's coached some...really great skaters."

Eren nods. "So, uh...when did you get back to the US?" He feels like a deer in blue headlights.

"Oh. Last week." Eren's eyes are really green, Armin thinks. Not just a little bit green on the inner edges, but a true forest moss. "It's been...really nice to be back, honestly."

"Were you, uh, in Chicago before?" Eren wants to crawl in a dark hole.

Armin shakes his head. "Ann Arbor," he says. "My parents teach there." He can't bring himself to look away or at the floor, like he usually does. He supposes that makes Eren a train wreck. A hot train wreck, anyways.

"Oh. So, you don't live with them?"

"No, my grandfather lives downtown, so I'm living with him."

"Right on," Eren says. He wonders if a Zamboni machine can kill you, and if the driver would do him the courtesy.

"Yeah, with Levi here, and my grandpa...couldn't turn it down." Armin shrugs. There's a beat of silence. "So...you guys are from here?

"Yeah," Eren says.

"Cool." Armin brushes his hair out of his face. Eren wants to touch his hair. And his face. All of him. He reminds Eren of a little porcelain figurine from a glass case in his grandmother's living room.

Mikasa decides to put her brother out of his misery. "Hey, we can go." She walks up to Armin. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you then." He gives her a hug goodnight. Eren feels a jolt of pain. Armin stands still in front of him for a heavy second. Too soon for a hug. Still, there's a tension in the air. "I'll, uh, see you later."

"Yeah. For sure." Eren turns to Sasha. "I'll see you at Reiner's?"

"Yep." Sasha winks at him. He prays Armin didn't notice. He turns to leave with Mikasa, feeling like he weighs about three ounces.

Armin decides not to watch them walk out. He sits back down and looks up at Sasha.

She grins wickedly. "I think somebody likes you."

**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been worried that the conversation between Armin and Eren at the end of the last chapter wouldn't be awkward enough...thank you to everybody who left me comments assuring me it was :)

Mikasa watches the snow drifting slowly outside the car window with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Shut up," Eren says, turning a corner.

"Eren. I didn't say anything."

Eren blushes. "You were thinking it," he snaps.

"You are so pathetic, you know that?" She reaches up to open the garage door. Gold light spills out onto the snow-dusted street. She shuts it behind them. The space next to them is empty; their parents have gone out to dinner.

Eren drags his hockey bag up to his room and collapses onto his bed. He draws his phone from his pocket. So his name is Armin, Eren thinks.

Armin isn't difficult to find. He's the first search result. Armin Arlert, 3 mutual friends: Annie, Sasha, and Mikasa. Eren clicks on Armin's profile, and oh, thank god—most of his photos are public. Eren wonders whether that was on purpose, or an oversight by someone who doesn't spend much time sitting at a computer. Armin beams at a foreign crowd in a professional press photo set as his profile picture. Eren can't tell if Armin's wearing stage makeup, or if his skin is naturally that clear and perfect, a flush across his cheeks making his eyes look bluer. In the next one, he stands with a group of smiling young women in school uniforms in front of an elaborately carved wooden gate with a motif of interlocking dragons. They all make peace signs. Then, a video: a clip from a TV interview with a few other skaters, subtitled in Chinese.

Eren scowls at the next photo: a selfie. A young man with shiny brown eyes and dark freckles wraps his arm around Armin's shoulders. They wear warm-up jackets and medals around their necks. Who the hell is Marco Bodt? Eren wonders. He's in the next several photos: taller and broader, with dark hair and an infectious, winning smile, always touching Armin. Marco Bodt, from Turin, Italy. 1 mutual friend: Mina Carolina. Hang on, Eren thinks, how does he know Mina, the quiet ice dancer from his and Mikasa's class? He looks again, at the last bits of publicly visible information. Likes: Youth Pride Italia, US Figure Skating Association; Lives in: Chicago, Illinois.

Eren flops dejectedly back down onto his mattress. Of course he has a boyfriend, Eren thinks. Why wouldn't he? And of course it's some gorgeous Italian model who probably has a villa on a private lake somewhere. Eren drags himself to his feet and looks at his reflection in the mirror on his closet door. He needs a haircut, he thinks: he keeps having to flip it out of his face, and the ends are starting to curl up at the nape of his neck. A little angry red blemish sits at the corner of his nose, a nose he otherwise likes. A unibrow threatens to emerge at the top of it, demanding to be tweezed soon. He'll do it tomorrow; he doesn't want to show up at Reiner's with a big red spot on his forehead.

Eren wonders if anyone's ever had a crush on him. He hopes there will be beer at Reiner's.

**

Jean's had a crush on Mikasa since the first day of Freshman year. "Get in line," Connie teased him; it was no secret how many pairs of eyes always followed her down the hall; not just boys', but quite a few girls' as well. She never paid him the slightest attention, which made her even more attractive. In fact, the only person she ever seemed interested in was a severe-looking girl from the skating club, Reiner's cousin Annie. And that, to Jean's dismay, made her even more appealing.

Nothing's ever going to happen between him and Mikasa, and Jean knows it. But liking Mikasa is camouflage. It's an easy deflection, when half the time, he's actually staring at Eren.

It's bad enough to have a crush, he thinks. It's worse to like a set of siblings, and even worse when the other sibling is a guy. And not just any guy, but of all people—the Jaeger Bomb. Eren, who can barely get through a game without getting suspended; who walks brazenly through the locker room naked; whose green eyes give Jean heart palpitations. Jean hates every bit of it.

"It's all right, you know," Bert said to him on the loud bus trip to their game in Winnetka the previous week. "Lots of people like both." Bert admitted his theories about Coach Smith, which made Jean feel slightly better. But not well enough to fully clear the fog of anxiety and self-loathing that constantly hangs over him. He's always found it ironic that the only two guys he knows who are out are also the biggest and toughest on the team. But then, maybe that's why; anyone who tries to give them a hard time about it is liable to get a hockey stick to the teeth.

The last of the Blackhawks game plays on the huge flat screen in the Brauns' basement living room. Excited screaming punctures the air at their last-second victory. Towers of pizza boxes, most of them empty, stand on the long table by the wall. The TV switches to highlights and commentary, and a few friends and teammates decide to head home. Reiner hugs them good night and surveys the group that remains: about a dozen friends he's known for longer.

"I have a proposal," he says with crossed arms and a wicked grin.

Bert rolls his eyes. Here we go, he thinks. Reiner's favorite sport isn't hockey, it's Chicken.

"Annie and Sasha will judge, Bert and I will referee," Reiner declares.

The only two girls left turn to each other and cackle. Sasha gives him a thumbs up.

"Oh god, do we have to?" Daz groans and leans back into the couch.

Franz punches his shoulder. "Don't back down from a challenge. Make Coach Smith proud," he says with a sinister smile.

"Franz, you should have brought your host brother, he'd be all over this," Annie says.

Franz laughs. Eren is confused; he didn't know the Kefkas had someone staying with them.

"All right, let's do this," Connie stands in the center of the room, rubbing his hands together.

"Go get 'em, babe," Sasha says, reaching for another piece of pizza.

"Put Daz out of his misery," Annie says.

"Oh, for fuck's sake—" but Daz is interrupted by Connie suddenly standing over him, lips approaching. Daz cringes and flips his arms awkwardly in front of his face.

Connie throws his head back laughing and steps back away from the couch. "Who's next?" He puts his hands on his hips. Without saying a word, Franz stands up and grabs Connie's face. Connie lets out a little shriek and covers his mouth with his hand, laughing to the point of nearly crying. He hadn't been expecting Franz's tongue.

Eren takes another sip of his Coke with a mini-bottle of Jack Daniel's mixed in. No one notices how quiet he and Jean are.

Thomas succumbs easily, but Marlowe gives Franz a run for his money. Annie furtively snaps a photo and sends it to Hitch and Hannah. _You gotta keep your men under control_ , she types.

"Holy shit, man." Franz wipes his face on his sleeve and chuckles. Marlowe holds his hands up and backs away. Eren figures the guys who have girlfriends have an easier time of it. They can at least try to pretend. He sulks through the next few rounds. He wishes he had someone to make out with on the regular. God, he thinks. Armin's probably with Marco right now. Eren leans against the arm of the couch with his face in his hand. Marlowe gets as far as lifting up Boris's shirt before Boris snaps and backs away; Sam recoils from Jean almost immediately.

"Jaeger," Reiner says. "You're next."

"All right, fine," he says. Fuck it, he thinks. He grabs the front of Marlowe's shirt and pulls him toward him. But Marlowe isn't going down easy. Marlowe grabs the back of Eren's neck. Eren shudders, but doesn't relent. Not when he has Jack Daniel on his side. He grabs Marlowe's hips, to cheers from the others. Eren's never been able to tell what Hitch sees in Marlowe; he's always found him gangly and ugly, with a nose too large for his face and an awful haircut. But even Eren has to admit, he's not a bad kisser.

This goes on for longer than either of them intends.

"Jesus," Annie groans.

Finally Marlowe pushes Eren away and drops his head to his chest, shaking with nervous laughter. Eren grins a satisfied grin until he realizes: it's only him and Jean left.

"All right, Jean, you gotta' defend your title," Reiner says.

"What?" Eren is confused.

"Jean won last time. You were out of town," Annie says.

Shit, Eren thinks. All right, he decides. He's not backing down. He puts his hand on Jean's shoulder, pushes him onto the couch, and straddles him. But Jean's not backing down either. He grabs Eren's waist, then starts sliding his hands up Eren's shirt. Fine, Eren thinks. He puts his hands on the sides of Jean's face and pulls him closer. Reiner nods approvingly.

He has a face like a horse, but he sure doesn't kiss like one, Eren realizes. Oh, no. To Eren's astonishment, Jean is surprisingly subtle and deft. God almighty, Eren thinks; who has been making out with Horseface? How did he get good at this? Does he practice on his hand or something? How many times have these guys played Chicken without me?

Eren will cut his own tongue out before he will admit how much he's enjoying himself. He can't give Jean the satisfaction of knowing. There's only one way he can get through this, he thinks. Eren grips the back of Jean's neck and tries as hard as he can to pretend that Jean is Armin. The alcohol helps.

The others watch, initially impressed. Then, slightly uneasy. Jean and Eren show no sign of stopping any time soon.

Bert walks over to them and places his hands on each of their shoulders. "I'm calling it a draw," he says.

"What?" Eren turns around angrily.

"If you guys want to continue, there's a guest bedroom down the hall," Bert says.

Eren scoffs and pushes himself off of Jean. Jean crosses his arms defensively.

"Do us a favor," Reiner says to both of them. "Quit pretending you're not into dudes."

"We don't care," Franz says.

"Nope," Connie chimes in.

"Never have," Marlowe says.

"I swear to god, it's painful to watch you two," Annie says. "Your pictures are in the dictionary next to 'denial.'"

"You know if anybody ever gave you shit about it, Reiner would shove a hockey stick up their ass," Franz says, cracking open another can of soda.

"Jesus, Franz. Don't joke about that," Bert says. He turns to Jean and Eren. "But yeah. He would," Bert admits.

Jean's not nearly as worried about being harassed as he is about hurting his chances with the girls in their class. Even still, he doesn't want to be outed. Not yet, anyway. Bert notices Jean's nauseated expression and realizes they've gone too far.

"I don't want to talk about this," Jean says; his voice falters.

"Jean," Bert says plainly. "We won't say anything if you don't want us to."

"Dude, I'm sorry," Reiner says.

Jean stares at the floor and sighs. "How obvious is it?"

Reiner inhales sharply through his teeth.

"It's all right, man," Connie says. "Anybody who can't already tell doesn't need to know."

Eren reaches for his drink. "You know, anybody that's gonna' judge you was going to judge you anyways," he says to Jean.

"Oh, what, like you?" Jean snaps.

"I'm never _not_ judging you." Eren shrugs.

Jean wants to say something back, but the moment of honesty catches him off guard. More boxes of pizza and a duffle bag full of mini-bottles make their way around the room. The talking heads on the TV screen remain ignored.

"How about a different game?" Sasha says, finishing her seventh piece of pizza.

"Never have I ever!" Connie shouts.

Annie starts. "Never have I ever made out with a boy." She grins wryly. Everyone else in the room grumbles and puts a finger down.

"Fuck you, Annie," Jean says. She just laughs,

"Ok, ok, never have I ever made out with a _girl_ ," Sasha says.

"Ooh, touché," Connie says. Annie rolls her eyes. Everyone in the room puts a finger down except for Eren and Jean.

"Really?" Reiner says. "Not even to try it out."

"Reiner, leave them alone," Bert says.

**

"Dude, listen, sorry about earlier," Reiner says as Jean gets into his car.

"It's fine. Really. Don't worry about it."

"Ok." Reiner grins. "I'm gonna' give it a rest. But..." he looks around for a second. "Let me know if you ever want me to set you up."

Jean rests his forehead on the steering wheel. "I'm going home now," he mutters.

"All right, man. Drive safe." Reiner retreats back into the house, a few flakes of snow clinging to his sweatshirt.

**

Eren makes it home just before midnight. Everyone else is already asleep. He pours himself a glass of water and looks at his phone; when he swipes it open, it's still on Armin's profile. He tries to scroll down. He accidentally hits "add friend."

"Shit," he whispers to the empty kitchen. He searches frantically: _how to cancel a friend request_. "Shit," he hisses. He can't find anything.

Then his phone dings. A message appears. _Armin Arlert has accepted your friend request! Click here to send him a message_.

Eren feels another adrenaline spike. "Well that's...well. Ok, then," he says to no one in particular.

He finishes the glass of water and pours himself another one. His phone dings again on his way up the stairs.

_Armin Arlert likes your photo._

Eren recognizes the icon. He knows it's his profile picture. But he clicks on it again and scrutinizes it anew, trying to look at it as if he's never seen it before. He and Mikasa wear shiny aviator sunglasses on a bright day at the lake; they both peer mischievously over the rims. It's one of the best photos they've ever taken together, Eren thinks. For a while, Mikasa used it as her profile photo, too, which caused some humorous confusion.

Eren taps on Armin's profile again. He feels like he's just unlocked a new level of a video game. New series of photos are visible now. No beach shots, to Eren's disappointment. Just lots of very tight pants. He bites his lip.

Eren shouldn't drink and be knows it; he knows his parents would kill him if they found out. But after he washes up and lays in bed, he realizes he'd never be able to fall asleep without the artificial help from his new friends Jack Daniels and José Cuervo. He scrolls through Armin's photos until his eyes can no longer stay open.


	4. Chapter 4

Eren wakes up to the weak December sun filtering through a slow curtain of snow. He rolls over and looks at his phone: only 8:30. He figures he would have slept later. He turns off the alarm before it rings.

No new messages. Was he really expecting Armin to message him?

I should just message him, Eren thinks. No, he thinks again. That's a terrible idea. That will make you look desperate. That's the worst idea you've ever had, Eren, he says to himself. He clicks on Armin's profile. Oh my god, what am I doing, he thinks. He clicks the "about" section. There's still nothing listed in the "relationships" field. Eren pouts. He heaves a heavy sigh.

He slips back underneath the warm covers and reaches for his hard cock. His hands feel calloused and rough from lifting weights; the backs of them like sandpaper from the dry winter air. He bets Armin's hands don't feel like this. What does the rest of his skin feel like, Eren wonders.

He considers getting in the shower. But then it will be obvious, and Mikasa will complain about him not leaving her enough hot water. No, far better to stay in bed.

He thinks of a photo, his favorite of the entire set, one that Armin clearly wasn't expecting. In it, he looks up at the camera with an expression of shy surprise; a loose sweater with an open neck exposes his collarbones. Eren pictures himself pulling the sweater off of Armin, running his hands down his lean, supple body, thin but not wiry, toned from years of training. He pictures blue eyes gazing up at him, that shy smile turning to one of hungry anticipation. He feels warm breath between his legs. Eren massages a little glassy drop of precum into his tip and imagines Armin's delicate tongue.

Mikasa knocks on Eren's bedroom door.

He lets out an exasperated groan. "What is it," he creaks.

"Hey, are you gonna' need the car today? Or can I drive it to the rink?" Mikasa talks through the closed door. She knows better than to just walk in. She stands dressed in her warm-up jacket and track pants.

"What? Oh. Yeah, I have conditioning. I can drop you off."

"What time are you gonna' be done?" she asks.

"Uh...by one."

"Ok, can you pick me up on your way home?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Jarred from the intrusion, it takes him a moment to conjure up his fantasy again. He brushes imaginary blonde hair out of the face of the boy whose phantom lips envelop his stiff shaft. He smiles at the imaginary mischievous glance, his model features made sharper from the little vacuum seal of his mouth as he takes Eren deeper into his throat. Eren arcs his hips up and feels the imaginary pressure of smooth hands greedily gripping his waist.

He catches himself in a handful of tissues and collapses, relaxed. But the bed feels so disappointingly empty, and then he feels empty, as the rush wears off. The guilt of having invoked Armin's likeness bores a little hole in his gut. He imagines Armin being able to sense it, the way a dog smells fear; he sees blue eyes narrowing in disgust. But he knows the only way to find out what Armin thinks is to talk to him. No meat-headed brute on hockey stakes has ever seemed as threatening to Eren as this little blonde sprite.

Eren pushes himself up off of his mattress and looks at his reflection. His hair stands up at odd angles; he has faint circles under his eyes. But his nose is looking better, he thinks. Aren't you something, he says to himself. Way to go, Jaeger, who wouldn't want to bang you? At least you're in decent shape. Eren turns himself at different angles and observes the contours of his chest and arms.

He sighs and throws on his bathrobe. He showers, quickly enough to avoid suspicion, but long enough to imagine washing his nervousness down the drain.

**  
A large, multi-purpose room stands above the south rink. Floor-to-ceiling windows look over the ice; a ballet barre cuts the long mirrored wall in half. In the corner, a handful of skaters Armin doesn't know stretch on long mats; a few others work through a grueling Pilates sequence, guided by a coach he hasn't met. Armin yawns, still not quite over the jet lag from his thirty hour jaunt from Beijing to Chicago. The fluorescent lights above seem especially, menacingly bright. He flips through a packet of paper: a conditioning plan worked out for him by Levi and a trainer named Nanaba. He squints. He can do squats and lunges all day. It's the upper body segment that brings on a tingle of dread.

He jumps rope like a boxer, earning a few impressed glances from the skaters on the mats. Levi brings himself and Armin nuclear cups of tea that won't be drinkable for an hour.

"I will tell you something that will help you," Levi says as Armin holds a plank position over the mat. Armin's always hated doing push-ups; he resents the weakness in his wrists and his chest. "Imagine the person you want beneath you."

Armin gives him a skeptical, embarrassed look. Levi narrows his already narrow eyes.

"You think I am kidding. I am not kidding. Try it. You will see," Levi says as Armin looks at the floor. "It is easy. Pick a hockey player. You will get the..." he makes a sweeping motion up toward his chest, "hormones. I am serious."

Levi's phone rings and he excuses himself. Armin can't quite tell, but the jingly tone sounds like the theme from _Doctor Zhivago_. So, who do _you_ visualize, Armin wonders with a twinge of bitterness. A hockey _coach_?

He lowers himself to the floor and gets a mental picture of green eyes. Coming back up does feel easier, he notices.

**

Eren drives slowly through the gentle density of the snow. Mikasa is distracted by her phone. He could easily have gotten a ride from Connie. But if he drops Mikasa off, he has to pick her up; and if he picks her up, he can go inside the rink; and if he goes inside the rink, there's a chance that Armin will be there.

"How was Reiner's?" Mikasa asks, shoving her phone back in her pocket.

"Uh...it was fine," Eren lies. "We just watched the game and hung out." Eren's never been more grateful that his sister wasn't around. Mikasa doesn't believe him for a minute. She'll talk to Sasha and Annie and compare reports. Eren drives up to the front of the Iceplex.

"Thanks," she says, reaching across the center console for an awkward hug. "See you later." She pulls open the back hatch of the car, slams it shut, and disappears into the complex, rolling her wheeled bag behind her.

**  
Armin notices the blinking light on his phone. Texts from Marco.

 _I am so disappointed in Franz._  
_He has not introduced me to any cute American boys yet!_

Oh god, Armin thinks. Here we go.

 _Marco you've only been in the country for four days_ , Armin types. _Hold your horses_.

Marco sends back a string of horse emoji.  
_Armin there is a neighborhood here called Boystown_  
_We have to go!!!_  
_This city is great_

 _What if you run away and I never see you again?_ Armin replies.

His phone chimes again.  
_You will know I died happy :D_

Armin rolls his eyes. After meeting a few times at competitions over the years and a year on tour together, he loves Marco like a brother. And Marco, fittingly, embarrasses him like a brother. The fearless, flamboyant Italian brother he never had. Still, he's grateful to know at least one other person in Chicago besides his grandfather and Levi.

When he's honest with himself, what he feels is envy at the effortless nature with which Marco floats through life: his unwavering self-assurance and his ability to say anything to anyone. It's not that he could never admit to being wrong; in fact, disarming humility is part of his charm. It's that Marco doesn't seem to believe there's anything wrong with him, or that there ever has been. It gives him an emotional lightness that Armin craves for himself more than any prize he's ever competed for.

 _What time are you coming to the rink?_ Armin types.

 _We are meeting Petra and Oulo at noon. Then free skate!!_ He adds a superfluous string of snowflakes.

_Ok, see you then!_

Petra and Levi chat in rapid Russian in the corner. All Armin can pick out are the names 'Marco' and 'Mina' with unusual endings. Oulo walks in with a couple Armin doesn't recognize. He drinks his finally potable tea while Petra and Oulo demonstrate a series of lifts over the forgiving mats.

"I like the Bulgarians, but I do not like the way they speak Russian," Levi says. "It is like talking to a machine gun." Petra and Oulo had emigrated from Sofia a decade prior and coached an increasingly impressive succession of champion pairs skaters since.

Well, Armin thinks, the way you speak English makes me feel like I'm about to have my knuckles broken with a lead pipe, but that's neither here nor there.

"Did it work?" Levi asks, referring to his earlier advice.

"Uh...yes," Armin admits, his chest burning from the effort.

"Arya, I am not just messing with you," Levi says. "I do not waste time. If I tell you something, it is because it will make you better." He sips his tea contemplatively and looks out over the ice below. "I will never tell you to get distracted from your art, Arya." Armin feels a monologue coming on. "But if you want to make art, you have to have passion, Arya!" He turns and points at Armin. "And I will tell you something else!" He hisses. "It does not have to be a good feeling. But it must be a _strong_ feeling." He watches a skater tumble out of a spin. "If you have no strong feelings, then you are no better than a penguin flapping around on an iceberg." He looks squarely at Armin. "I like penguins," he says gravely. "But penguins do not make art!" he says loud enough that the whole room turns in his direction.

Ok, Armin thinks. Strong feelings. That, I can do.

**

"Eren," Mike says, sternly but without malice, "You don't show up late to your games. Don't show up late to conditioning."

"Sorry, coach." Eren steps onto a treadmill and sets the timer for ten minutes to warm up. When he steps off, Jean is the only one left in need of a spotter. Eren just nods. Jean says nothing; he loads plates onto a bar and slides beneath it.

He's really not a bad-looking guy, Eren thinks, even if his face is too long. If he wasn't so fucking obnoxious, he'd almost be hot. Under the guise of spotting, Eren contemplates Jean's pecs. He notices the rigid column of Jean's torso, the way the edge of his shirt creeps up to reveal a sliver of his abs. How desperate am I, Eren thinks. It's only starving people who eat horses, right? Is that why Horseface seems attractive now?

Jean finishes his sets, still silent and mopey. He wipes down the bench. Eren scowls at the bar and takes off two ten pound plates, but Jean says nothing. No snarky, biting comments; no dumb quips about how he could bench press Mikasa. Eren's arms tremble and burn when he finishes, but that's not what bothers him. It's the silence. And that's when Eren realizes he misses the attention.

"What is wrong with you," Eren says to Jean as they walk into the locker room at the end of the session, achey and covered in sweat.

"Fuck off, Jaeger."

Eren smiles.

**

Eren pushes open the revolving door. A merciful gust of warm air washes over him. He hears a burst of laughter from the cafe at the center of the long, busy hall. Mikasa's arms are wrapped around Annie's waist. She hoists her off the ground, to another volley of laughter. Three other skaters sit at the table behind them: Mina and Sasha, still in their skates, and Armin, in sneakers and a warm-up jacket. They haven't seen him walk in. Eren feels his body temperature rise.

The door to the north rink opens and Eren freezes. A tall young man with short, dark hair and broad shoulders walks out, in tight black pants and a fitted burgundy shirt that teases cruelly at the topography of muscles underneath. Even walking in his skates, he has the smooth gait of a model. Or maybe a leopard. Fuck, Eren thinks. So that's Marco Bodt. Eren's never been more disappointed to see such a beautiful man. Marco flashes a little smile at Eren, and then—wait a second—did he just wink at me?

Marco walks into the cafe. Eren's eyes follow Marco's sculpted butt until it disappears behind a cluster of tables. Then Marco embraces Armin and gives him a little kiss on each cheek. Eren walks back to the car.

He sits, nauseated, with his head against the steering wheel.

Mikasa's phone vibrates against the table. A message from Eren: _Hey I'm in the parking lot._

"What's wrong?" Annie asks.

"Eren's here, but he's outside." She types back. _I want to stay for a little longer. Why don't you come inside?_

Eren groans. He has no excuse. _How much longer are you going to be?_

_10 minutes? Just come in and say hi._

Eren walks back into the Iceplex like a man on the way to the gallows.

When he reaches the table, Marco stands up, embraces him, and gives him a little air kiss on each cheek. "So you are Eren!"

"Uh...this is my friend Marco," Armin explains, embarrassed at Marco's forwardness.

Eren, you dumbass, he thinks to himself. Marco is Italian. This is how they greet each other over there.

"Eren...so you are Turkish?" Marco asks. His speech has a charming lilt.

"Oh. Yeah, my mom is." Eren is impressed. He's used to getting 'Erin' and 'Aaron.'

Marco looks at him and Mikasa. "You and your brother look nothing alike except that you are both very pretty," he says to her with a satisfied smile. Armin fidgets in his seat.

"So," Annie looks at Eren. "You all recovered from last night?"

Eren's insides curdle. Oh god, he thinks; what did you tell them?

"What happened?" Marco asks with a sincere concern that makes Eren want to cringe even more.

"Oh. Nothing. I tripped and fell."

"Into Jean's lap," Sasha says with a smile.

Eren scowls. "Hey, guess what," he says. "I got community service credit for that." Normally the team spends a weekend volunteering at a soup kitchen. Sasha nearly spits out her hot chocolate.

"Who is Jean?" Marco asks; curious, confused. "He is French?"

"I think Canadian," Mina says.

Eren groans. "He's a dick, wherever he comes from." he says. "Ok," Eren looks around, "If you see a guy in a Trost hockey jersey and it looks like he's wearing one of those rubber horse masks, but then it actually isn't a mask, it's his _face_ , that's Jean."

"Wow. Not even a real horse anymore. We've downgraded to fake horses," Annie says.

"He's just...a tool," Eren declares, for Armin and Marco's edification.

Armin feels a little swell of relief. He'd heard Annie claim that Eren had gone to town making out with one of his teammates, but it hadn't been clear that it was with someone that Eren didn't actually like.

"So, what brings you to Chicago?" Eren tries to change the subject.

"This girl," Marco points to Mina and beams.

"Oh, right," Eren turns to Mina. "I forgot. You do pairs. Awesome."

"Do you know Petra and Oulo?" Marco asks, still grinning.

"The Bulgarians?" Eren squints. He recalls a couple of coaches he sometimes sees Levi talking to.

"They are the best," Marco shrugs.

"Speak of the devil," Annie says.

Petra waves from the opposite end of the hall.

"Guess we better get back in there," Mina says. Eren wishes he could be as happy about anything in life as Marco is about skating with Mina and the Bulgarians. "See you guys." Mina waves.

"You must introduce me to your horse friend," Marco says with a twinkling smile, getting up. "I love animals." And Canadians, he thinks. So friendly.

Armin puts his face in his hands as Marco walks out.

"Aw, what's wrong?" Sasha says, rubbing his shoulder.

Armin looks up, his face red. "Marco Bodt, ladies and gentlemen." He makes a little hand flourish in the direction of the north rink.

Mikasa laughs. "Oh, I like him. He's so nice. Plus, Mina's super excited to skate with him."

Armin sighs. "Oh, he's great; I mean, he's one of my best friends. He's just, like...I don't know, like the drunk aunt at a family reunion who just has to tell everybody how much she loves them. Like, all the time." Armin shrugs. "It kind of scared some people in China." He looks at Eren. "We did a tour thing together for like a year."

Eren nods and pretends he hasn't looked at every single picture of Armin on the internet, many of which also feature Marco.

Armin glances at the clock. "I better head out."

"Rehearsal?" Annie asks.

"Yeah."

"Man, you're killin' it."

"We can get going," Mikasa says to Eren.

"Yeah, ok." He tries to hide his disappointment that Armin is leaving so soon. But still. He had stated very clearly that Marco is a _friend_.

"Let me grab my stuff from the locker room." Mikasa gets up, leaving Eren and Armin with Annie and Sasha. Neither of the girls are going to bail him out.

"So, what are you rehearsing for?" Eren asks.

"Uh...just a show." Armin shrugs. "It's with a company I used to skate with a few years ago." Eren wonders what he could possibly be so embarrassed about skating in. "I did some shows and stuff with them in Ann Arbor and Boston before I left for China, so they pretty much just...cast me again on the spot."

"Oh. That's great." Eren prays Armin keeps talking. He doesn't know what else to say.

Armin laughs nervously. "Honestly I could probably do the choreography in my sleep." He immediately wants to take it back, worried he's bragging too much. "But, I mean...well, they are, like, paying me to be there."

"No. Yeah. Totally." Ok, Eren. This is what you wanted, he tells himself. Now you have to face it. Think of something to say. "So, uh, how's it going with Levi?"

"It's...good." Armin says, wincing a little. "He's, uh...kind of intense. But in a good way. You know, just...really serious. But a great coach, definitely."

"Yeah, for sure. Mikasa says similar things." Eren wonders if Levi has made Armin cry yet, based on a handful of Mikasa's stories. "I always found him a little...strange," Eren confesses. It's not a total lie. Strange and hot.

"Oh. Yeah, he, uh, gets kind of...philosophical. Like, I think maybe he wanted to be a poet."

Eren laughs, then immediately wonders if he laughed too hard. Annie and Sasha look at each other, sipping their drinks.

"Oh, man, yeah, sometimes I think my coaches want to be motivational speakers and they're just practicing on us," Eren says.

"Lots of rousing speeches in the locker room?"

"Every time." Eren smiles. God, his eyes are so blue, Eren thinks; shining out of an angelic face that looks like it belongs in a Renaissance fresco. In his sneakers, Armin's a few inches shorter. It's a flattering angle, he thinks. Then he realizes they've just been grinning at each other for a few seconds. Annie rolls her eyes.

"So how long have you played hockey?" Armin asks. What a dumb thing to ask, he thinks. He's probably been playing it forever, at least as long as Mikasa's been skating.

"Oh, god," Eren thinks back. "Twelve years?" He scratches the back of his head. "I play in the summer, too, though. In the regional league."

So you don't get out much, either, Armin thinks. "Oh. Nice. Are you trying to get a scholarship?"

"Honestly? Yeah, if I can swing it," Eren says.

Mikasa taps him on the shoulder. "Hey. We can go."

"Oh. Right." Eren comes down from his little cloud of excitement. Time to face reality again; time to operate heavy machinery.

"I'll walk out with you," Armin says. He grabs his duffle bag from the back of his chair and slings it over his shoulder. Sasha and Annie wave goodbye with little smirks.

"You coming in tomorrow?" Mikasa asks Armin as they step out into the sharp, cold air. 

"Yeah, probably in the afternoon."

Oh, good, Eren thinks. I have practice then.

"See you then." Mikasa gives Armin a hug. Armin looks sheepishly at Eren over her shoulder. Eren wants to melt.

"Yeah," Armin says. "I'll see you guys later." He stands still for a second. Eren decides to make a move. He takes a step forward. Armin takes his cue and wraps an arm around Eren. It's a short hug, but just enough for Armin to sense the density of Eren's body.

Armin waves and turns in the direction of his grandfather's little green Audi, parked at the other edge of the lot. Eren watches until he disappears into the slowly drifting snow.

Mikasa waits until they've shut the doors before she laughs into the dashboard. Eren's phone dings in short succession.

From Sasha: _Ask him out already!_  
From Annie: _oh my god watching you and Armin is worse than watching you and Jean_  
_do us all a favor_  
_ok?_


	5. Chapter 5

He touched me, Eren thinks. On purpose. Oh my god.

Eren sits still in the driver's seat, a fluttery warmth spreading through his body.

"Eren. Start the car," Mikasa says. She glances at her phone. Armin's way too good for you, she thinks.

Eren drives home lost in thought, feeling so warm he could stand naked on the ice. Then, a thought creeps in: what if Armin was just being nice? What if he didn't really want to hug me, and he was just being generous? Or trying to make things less awkward?

Eren remembers a few occasions on which he watched Mikasa peel a boy's arm off of her shoulders. He thinks of the awkward family gatherings when he didn't really want to hug Great Aunt Gretchen or Uncle Adnan, but decorum seemed to dictate it. How much touch is merely tolerated?

No, Eren thinks. He _smiled_ at me. Over Mika's shoulder, no less.

But what does a smile mean?

Eren grinds to a halt at a stoplight, sending Mikasa forward a few inches in her seat.

"Jesus, Eren! Pay attention!"

"Sorry."

The snow is fast and horizontal, piling up in fluffy banks at the sides of the road. Sasha and Annie both sent texts egging him on. But they sent them at the same time. Eren feels a little knot of anxiety. Are they encouraging him because they think it will work out? Or because they think it would be funny? He scowls at the bundled-up pedestrians in the crosswalk.

**

"Rose!" Eren shouts.

The year-old red husky with a pink nose leaps into his arms, nearly sending him straight back out the open door. No human being has ever been so excited to see Eren as this foster dog, except, perhaps, at Eren's birth. She licks his face all over and makes excited, chattery whines. He kneels down and rubs her ears, running his fingers through her thick, pinkish fur.

"Eren, honey, will you take her out? Your dad walked her this morning, but you know how antsy she gets," Carla says, pouring a cup of thick cardamom coffee from a copper pot.

"Yeah, for sure." Eren grabs his hat and scarf from a hook in the closet, then Rose's pink leash. He takes a tennis ball. He remembers how deep the snow has gotten, and reaches for two more.

I wonder if Armin likes dogs, Eren thinks. The salt on the sidewalk crunches under his boots. I wonder if he would like Rose. Who wouldn't like Rose? He must like animals. I bet animals follow him around.

Eren smiles at the thought. The dog's tongue lolls between her pointy teeth. The air on Eren's face gets colder as they approach the park by the lake. A long field of pristine snow stretches in front of them, and Rose begins to bound impatiently, straining against her collar. Eren unhooks the leash.

"You ready, girl?"

She barks excitedly. He grabs a tennis ball and chucks it as hard as he can for her to sprint after. His heart sinks. Rose is going to be a service dog for a child with disabilities. But Eren doesn't want to give her away.

"You're gonna' make somebody so happy, aren't you, girl?"

He pulls the slobber-covered ball from her mouth and hurls it across the field again. The moisture around his eyes stings in the cold.

She comes bounding back, tail swishing.

"Who am I gonna' play with when you're gone, Rose?" Eren sighs. Who am I going to cuddle with when you're gone, Eren wonders.

She jumps in anticipation. Eren arcs the ball high. She catches it in mid-air. He throws it a few more times, his arm starting to feel sore from the morning workout. Eren wishes he could feel as excited about anything in life as Rose feels about catching a tennis ball; he wishes he loved anything as much as she loves the snow. Or him. He pauses for a moment. He wishes someone felt excited about him. What a terrifying thing to realize.

He swipes open his phone. _Armin Arlert was with Ilse Langnar and Daniela Brzenska at Navy Pier_. Eren peers at the new photo. He feels a little surge of excitement. By now he's begun to memorize the sequence of photos on Armin's profile like a deck of tarot cards; each one with some cryptic meaning waiting to reveal itself, if Eren can ever get closer. In the new image, Armin stands in front of a mass of complicated rigging for stage lights, with his arm around a girl who looks a few years younger. They both flash photogenic smiles. Armin's shirt is pulled in such a way to reveal the contour of his chest. God, Eren thinks; I want to hug him again. I want to do a lot of things, but I want to start with a hug. _Backstage with my two stars!_ , Ilse's caption reads. Eren smiles. He wonders if he should 'like' it.

Rose whimpers impatiently.

"Sorry!" Eren throws the ball again.

He does a quick search for Navy Pier. A banner appears at the top of the page. _Mitras Ice Ballet presents The Nutcracker on Ice._ Eren raises an eyebrow and clicks.

 _Award-winning artistic director Ilse Langnar concludes her stunning sixth season with Mitras Ice Ballet_ , the page announces. _A collaboration with international touring performers and local artists, you won't want to miss this classic, enchanting performance._

Eren scrolls down and finds the cast list.

Of course, he thinks. Of course Armin would be the prince.

Rose ambles over, jumps up, and knocks an unaware Eren back into the deep snow bank, sending his phone flying.

**  
Armin sits at his grandfather's dining room table, warm and sore from a long day of training and skating. The fluffy white cat weaves between his feet.

"How are you liking Chicago so far, sweetie?" Armin's mother smiles through the laptop screen. Her voice has a digital crackle from the bad Skype connection. She's worried about him, Armin can tell. She's trying to hide it.

"Are you making friends?" His dad pops into the frame.

Way to be subtle, Armin thinks. "Dad, I haven't even been here for a week."

"Well, I know," his dad says, "but what do you think of the rest of the skating club?"

"Everyone's really nice," he says. He means it. It's not that he doesn't get a catty vibe from a few of the girls at North Point. It's just that it's nowhere close to the backstabbing nightmare of his old rink in Michigan.

The cat jumps into Armin's lap. "Oh. I have a visitor," he says. The cat noses the screen.

"Hi Rosalyn," Armin's mom says. "Are you taking good care of Armin?" The cat mews loudly and curls back up against Armin's torso.

"How are things going with Levi?" his dad asks.

"Uh...good." He's about to say that Levi is nice, by default. He catches himself. He's certainly not _evil_ , Armin thinks, by any means, but 'nice' is not the right adjective. "He's really serious, you know...really intense, but...I mean, that's what I'm looking for in a coach, right?"

His parents seem satisfied. They talk about details; about their upcoming trip to visit him once the semester is over; seeing his show; his starting private tutoring with a former student of his mother's, Moblit.

When the call finally ends, the silent apartment feels unusually empty. Armin's grandfather is at dinner with a group of colleagues, leaving Armin with the place to himself. He picks up the purring cat and walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the daytime, the view from the high-rise is spectacular, but at night, it's exceptionally dark. A few bands of streetlights glow below, but the black expanse of the frozen lake stretches out for miles, a void. Armin sees his reflection. Something about the dark glass makes him look older, he thinks, emphasizing the shadows in his face. At times he wishes he were older. But he wonders if it would make him feel any better. The cat begins to squirm and he sets her back down on the floor. Levi said you need strong feelings, Armin thinks. But what happens when you can't name any of them? Or what if the strong feeling is something like dread? Or embarrassment? Armin looks out at the dark ice again. What happens if you don't feel anything?

Armin picks up his laptop and carries it into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He sits on his bed and closes Skype. Behind it is a browser window: Photos of Eren Jaeger. He scrolls through and clicks on one of Eren and Connie, standing shirtless on a dock in late afternoon summer sun. They're a little on the lanky side for hockey players, two aggressive forwards. But Armin has no complaints. Eren's hipbones point starkly down from the taut plane of his abs into the waistband of his bathing suit, slung low across his hips, revealing a strip of tan line, the wet fabric clinging to his muscular legs.

God, they're both so _tan_ , he thinks. 'Armin, you are white like aspirin,' Marco told him once, laughing. It's what he gets for doing an indoor sport; a product of his parents' Nordic genes. In the light of the laptop screen, Armin feels pale enough to glow in the dark. Not even white. Almost blue. He supposes Eren's Turkish heritage explains his coloring; he can't place Connie's background. Armin considers his own arms, and feels a little relief at not being quite so alarmingly skinny anymore, at least.

He leans back into the pillows. Maybe his parents are right to worry about him making friends, after how much he detested his old school. Armin wonders if he should call Marco and make some kind of plans, try to get out and see more of the city. But sometimes Marco is too intense. Armin scrolls through more photos; in nearly all of them, Eren wears a mischievous, snarky little half-smile, like a cat that just ate a canary. What little secret are you so proud of, Armin wonders. He sighs. You'd think, after a year together on tour, some of Marco's charisma would have rubbed off on me, he says to himself. Why can't his fearlessness be contagious?

I should message Eren, he thinks. It would be easy, right? Armin's still wary of Mikasa's little warning. But hadn't Eren been obviously distracted, obviously interested? The awkward pauses made Armin curious, gave him a little twinge of power.

Armin grins at a photo of Eren with his arms wrapped around a fluffy husky puppy. _My favorite girl_ , the caption reads. Lucky bitch, Armin thinks.

He decides to take advantage of the privacy and turns on an unnecessary shower. He lies in the bathtub and lets the water wash over him. He gets a mental image of green eyes; his arms sting with soreness. All right, fine, Armin thinks, I'll imagine the person I want beneath me. He wonders if he's setting himself up for complete disappointment, but tries to push the thought out of his mind. He tries to convince himself that even if nothing comes of it in reality, at least he can entertain himself with a fantasy in the meantime.

How does it begin? He fingers himself slowly. He conjures up the experience he wants out of bits and pieces: memories of a few clandestine hook-ups, a little casual experimentation with Marco, so many videos, and pure imagination. In his mind's eye, he lies on Eren's chest and feels the heat of his body, his erect cock pressed between the two of them, Eren's sliding behind him. He takes a handful of Eren's hair in one hand, the back of his neck in the other, and kisses him. Armin sees himself drawing back, Eren grabbing his hips, pulling him forward; he sits up and rests his tailbone lightly on Eren's jaw.

He slowly slides in another finger, imagining Eren's tongue, soft, and fingers, thicker and pleasantly rough, doing the work for him. He pictures Eren looking up at him, smiling; not desperate, but with a kind of decadent greed, as if Armin were something exquisite and rare. He sees himself perched over Eren again. In his fantasy, his arms don't get tired. They don't buckle, even when Eren grips his waist, pulling him onto his cock; even when Eren tightens his grip and Armin rides him harder, pushing Eren deeper into him. When he lowers himself back onto Eren's chest, disregarding the sticky line of his own semen pooling in the ridges of Eren's abs, it's a smooth, controlled motion.

Armin lies relaxed, letting the warm water rinse away the little pool of cum. He stays in the bathtub until he feels the water turn cooler. He gets up, delirious and dehydrated, and wraps himself in a towel. When he opens the door to his room again, he sees his phone blinking: not the texts from Marco he expected, but one from Annie.

_Hey, are you free tomorrow morning? I'm getting brunch with Ymir and Krista if you want to come._

Armin smiles. _Yeah, I'd love to. What time?_

He changes into a clean t-shirt and a pair of long pajama pants. His phone chimes again a minute later.

_Café Salamander at 10?_

_Sounds great_ , he types. He wants to thank Annie for the invitation. But he doesn't want to look desperate, as if he thought such an invitation would never come. He decides to thank her in person in the morning, when it will sound more casual and natural.

The laptop screen is still glowing, still displaying a photo of Eren. Armin considers sending a message. He shuts the laptop. He doesn't want to look desperate.

**


	6. Chapter 6

Mikasa waves and disappears into the quiet north rink while Sunday afternoon chaos rages on the east and west. Eren glances through the window and spots Annie and Krista's blonde heads. No sign of Armin. Eren is perplexed by how he can want to see someone so badly and want to hide from them at the same time.

He heads for the cafe to read before practice begins. He scans the atrium and sees a blonde figure in black skates walking away from him. The back of his green sweatshirt bears an emblem of black and white wings, with something indecipherable in Chinese beneath it.

Ok, Eren thinks. No risk, no reward, right? Isn't that what your coaches have been telling you since you were a kid? You're a forward, aren't you? So go forward.

He takes a deep breath. But his voice comes out much softer than he intends. "Hey Armin."

The blonde boy keeps walking.

Eren tries again. "Hey. Armin."

Armin doesn't turn around. Eren pauses and doesn't follow him. His insides feel suddenly hollow as he slinks into the cafe, wondering what he possibly could have said or done wrong the day before. He casts a furtive glance over his shoulder. As Armin pushes open the door to the south rink, Eren notices the white wires of Armin's headphones, obscured by his long hair.

Eren melts with relief at not being ignored, but he still feels like an idiot. He orders a cider and sinks into a chair near the counter. He reaches for the only homework assignment that doesn't make him feel like an idiot, and pulls a book from his backpack, a paperback copy of _Cien años de soledad_ , by Gabriel García Márquez.

Armin plucks out his headphones and meets Levi at the edge of the ice.

"So. I will see you tomorrow afternoon," Levi says, glancing at his phone. Armin catches a glimpse of the screen and notices the background photo: a cluster of penguins. "I am sending you some new music," he says, "for your short program." He looks sternly at Armin. "You must pick something that moves you. I mean that very literally. If you are sitting still when you hear it, then it is no good."

Armin nods; his phone buzzes with Levi's email.

Levi leaves to meet Mikasa for her lesson. Armin spots Eren reading and decides he's feeling bold; bolder in light of Eren's clear discomfort from the other day. He wonders if someone else's strong feelings can make you stronger. He walks into the cafe.

Eren is immersed in his book until a cast shadow appears on the table. Armin stands next to him holding a steaming cup of tea.

"Hey," he says, grinning slightly. "What are you reading?"

Every shred of courage Eren had a few minutes prior has vanished. His throat goes dry. "Oh. Uh, just...something for a class."

"I'm gonna' guess...Spanish." Armin pulls out a chair and sits adjacent to Eren.

Eren grins. He decides to go with it. He raises an eyebrow and points at Armin. "You're very observant."

Armin gives a little shrug and cocks his head to the side. "I try," he says with a dry smile.

Eren searches for words. "Yeah, I'm in this...Spanish Lit class," he starts, completely unsure of where he's going.

"Are you fluent?" Armin asks, glancing at the book.

"Uh, kinda. Not quite. Getting there." Eren scrapes by in most of his classes, usually with a B by the end of the term. Except, incidentally, for Spanish. When he looks at the page, the words unveil their meaning; the patterns and paradigms unfold naturally in Eren's mind. When it's his turn to speak, the words arrive on time, in lucid order, and Eren feels the satisfaction of having genuinely meant what he said. He's the only Junior in an AP class full of Seniors. "I thought about trying to go abroad this summer and staying with a host family in Spain," he says. Am I bragging, or just rambling, he wonders.

"That sounds awesome. You should do it." Wait a second, Armin thinks; why I am encouraging him to go far away? Then he smiles with satisfaction. "I figured you were a nerd about something. Besides hockey."

Eren's not offended, just amused. "Well, you know what they say," he says. Armin blinks innocently. "It takes one to know one." Eren flashes the smile he makes in all his pictures. Armin likes it even better in person.

"Guilty as charged," Armin admits. He holds Eren's gaze for a moment. It becomes apparent that both of them are fighting the corners of their mouths, each trying not to smile too wide. "I never took Spanish, though. I had to take Latin," he says as if he has a bad taste in his mouth.

"That sounds...less than fun." Eren folds the corner of the page down to mark his place.

"Yeah. I didn't love it." Armin pulls the lid off his tea and sets the little bag in it. A plume of steam unfurls in front of him. "Made French a lot easier, later, though."

Of course, Eren thinks. Of course you know both French and Latin. What prince doesn't? "Guess it didn't help you with Chinese, much." Please think that's funny, he thinks. Or topical.

"Oh god," Armin lets out a painful little laugh. "You'd think over a year I would have picked more of it up, but I couldn't get it. At all. I couldn't even figure how to say 'I'm lost,' but that was...pretty obvious from me being, like, the only white person around for miles."

Eren tries not to laugh at Armin's plight. "Wait, so did you, like...get lost a lot?"

"Um...just a couple times," Armin admits in a low voice. He glances at the table, then back at Eren. "Luckily...I was pretty easy to find."

This time Eren does laugh. He meets Armin's gaze again and tries not to look away immediately. "So what are you a nerd about?" he asks.

"Honestly?" Armin looks around. "Physics," he says, smiling. More specifically, astrophysics; anything to do with outer space, really. Then, there's the ocean; marine animals fill him with a fervent delight. Also poetry, but Armin's not quite ready to admit it.

"Wait, seriously?" Eren smiles his mischievous smile again. "You wanna tutor me?"

"Maybe," Armin says coyly. "I only accept food as payment, though."

Wait a second, Eren thinks. Is this some backwards way of asking me on a date? " Yeah, well, luckily, I happen to be a really good cook," Eren says.

Armin is surprised, then slightly embarrassed at his surprise. "Wouldn't have guessed that looking at you," he says.

"Well, I mean...if you like Turkish food," Eren qualifies. Carla had been adamant about teaching Eren and Mikasa her repertoire; no child of hers is going to college only to live off of pizza and burritos, she insisted. "But yeah, I'm just...full of surprises," he says. And also talking out of my ass, he thinks.

Armin glances at the table again. I like Turkish _boys_ , he thinks; does that count? The thought makes him smile a little wider. Eren notices and smiles a little wider himself. When Armin looks back up at him, the two of them are grinning like fools.

Shit, Eren thinks. Think of something to say. "So, uh...where are you in school?"

Armin pauses. "Oh. Um, I'm not, really. I'm just...doing tutoring for now."

"Oh. Man. That's intense."

"It's all right," Armin says. "Honestly, I kind of prefer it." His voice is a little distant.

But doesn't it get lonely, Eren wonders. Well, he thinks, maybe that's the point. He senses a story behind Armin's aversion to school. But their conversation gets cut short. Two tall figures appear next to their table.

"Jägermeister," Reiner's gravely voice says. "What's happening."

Oh, please, god, Eren thinks; Reiner, you better not scare him away.

"Hey, man. How's it going," Reiner turns to Armin. "I'm Reiner."

"Hey. I'm Bert."

"Armin." Armin shakes their hands, then subconsciously rests his hand under the table, feeling strangely childlike in comparison to the two giant boys towering above him.

Bert snaps his fingers. "You're Marco's friend."

Armin smiles uneasily, wondering what sort of description Marco could have given of him.

"We're friends with Franz," Bert says with a little hand flip. Armin can detect just the faintest lilt to Bert's speech and a slight languor to his gestures that give Bert away as family. Armin's not sure if this makes him feel more comfortable, or less.

"Oh. Right. Gotcha," Armin says. "I didn't realize he met you guys."

"Oh yeah," Reiner says with a wicked grin. "Marco's great." Reiner bites his lip. "Marco's a piece of work."

Bert gives Reiner a look of suspicion. "What did you do this time," he says softly.

"Nothing." Reiner shrugs. It isn't true. He chatted with Marco on their way into the rink and pointed at Jean. 'Hey, I think my friend over there is having a bad day. Maybe you should talk to him,' Reiner said. Marco happily obliged.

A distinctive laugh, reminiscent of a braying horse, resounds over the chatter in the atrium. Eren leans back and looks over his shoulder. Armin turns around too. Jean leans against the wall, heaving, smiling; Marco leans toward him, gesturing exuberantly. He's too warm and guileless to come off as predatory, just a walking maelstrom of affection, waiting to be unleashed.

Jean tries to keep his wits about him. "So you only do pairs skating?"

"Oh, of course," Marco says with total sincerity. "Why would I want to be out there by myself?" He laughs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know how my other skating friends do it," he says. "The ice is so empty, you know?"

Jean feels a flicker of panic: does he like me, or does he talk like this to everyone? "I mean...I'm only ever out there with like, twenty other guys," he says, shrinking into the wall, feeling pinned to it by Marco's shiny dark eyes. Even if he does like me, Jean thinks, then what? He remembers one of his coach's speeches: 'there's only two causes of suffering in life,' Erwin had said. 'Not getting what you want, and getting it.'

Marco stands close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Jean's body.

Bert tilts his head. "They have a very different concept of personal space in Italy, don't they."

"Oh god," Armin mutters. He watches them each pull out their phones. "It begins."

"What?" Eren asks.

"The Great American Dick Harvest," Armin says.

Reiner throws his head back and laughs. Bert shoots him a look that says, 'you just love this, don't you?'

"Yeah..." Armin leans back a little farther. "I am never going to hear the end of this." He takes a sip of his tea. He feels a twinge of guilt, knowing he's using Marco's outgoing tendencies to deflect from his own proclivities and his own longing. A sort of camouflage technique. Marco's flaming nature makes Armin look more passably lukewarm. Then, he feels a pang of envy again. It took him days to work up the nerve to approach Eren. He can't even imagine chatting someone up the way Marco does now with Jean; Jean who is both obviously uncomfortable, and obviously loving the attention, Armin thinks, observing their body language.

Marco gives Jean the little air kisses and waltzes over to the cafe with a look of supreme satisfaction. He rests his arms on Bert and Reiner's shoulders. "Eren!" he shouts. "I met your Canadian! He was so nice."

Well of course he was nice to _you_ , Eren thinks.

Marco turns to Reiner. "I don't know what you were talking about at all," he says innocently. "He seemed perfectly happy when I talked to him!" Marco beams. He claps Bert and Reiner on the shoulder. "Ok, I am going to go practice now!" He winks at Eren again. "I will see you later!"

As Marco leaves, Eren feels the heavy realization that if he weren't sitting next to the most gorgeous boy he's ever seen, he would be unbearably jealous of Jean. The thought does not sit well with him.

Bert crosses his arms and looks at Reiner.

Reiner smiles smugly. "Oh, give me a break," he says. "Have you met Jean?" he asks Armin. Armin shakes his head. "Trust me," Reiner says. "He needs this. This is the best thing that's ever happened to him."

The Zamboni machine putters around the south rink, erasing the elegant swirls from the open figure session, preparing the ice for the onslaught of forty short blades.

Jean walks over, his face flushed. "Hey, you guys ready?" he says, slightly out of breath.

"Ah, shit, yeah, we should get going." Reiner glances at the clock.

Jean notices Armin. Eren feels his insides curdle. He shoots Jean a territorial scowl. But Jean doesn't notice, distracted introducing himself.

"Oh, yeah," Jean says. "Marco said you guys performed together?"

"Yeah," Armin gives an awkward shrug. "We did some shows...and stuff..."

"Awesome," Jean says, still flustered from his Italian encounter, too overwhelmed by Marco for his attraction to Armin to register.

"My dudes!" Connie strides up to them, his hands in the air. His heavy bag weighs down one shoulder. He spots Armin. "Hey man!" Connie gives him a little side hug. "How's it goin'?"

"Uh...good," Armin says. "Just, uh, met some of your folks here."

"Excellent, excellent. Hey, you gonna' be around later?" Connie asks him.

"Oh. No, I, uh, have this...thing I have to go to."

He must mean Nutcracker rehearsal, Eren thinks.

"Right on, man, no worries. We'll catch up with you next time," Connie says, grinning.

Armin briefly wonders what would happen if he put Connie and Marco in a room together. The charisma would be unbearable, he thinks. But he likes Connie; he feels grateful for Connie's spontaneous warmth, the same inclusive nature he envies in Marco.

Bert spots Erwin down the hall. "All right. Let's get to it," he says. He smiles at Armin. "We'll catch you later."

Eren is the last to leave, taking his time gathering his backpack and hockey bag. He slings them awkwardly over his shoulders. "So, uh, I guess I'll...see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Armin smiles. He decides not to hold back, looking at Eren with a warm, curious admiration that makes Eren feel weak. "I'll be here."

Laden with his bags, he can't exactly reach down to hug Armin. So he just nods. "All right." Eren looks at Armin as he walks away until he's straining his neck. He pushes open the door to the south rink and turns back one more time. Armin laughs and gives him a little wave.

"You look happy," Eren says snidely to Jean as he unzips his bag.

Jean just gazes at the floor for a moment, too distracted to be irritated. "You remember that speech from Coach Smith?" he asks.

"Psh, which one?" Eren asks. "Oh," he makes the connection. He laughs. "Dude. Just go for it."

A sly grin spreads across Jean's face. He turns and looks at Eren. "That goes for you too, you know."


	7. Chapter 7

God damn it, Eren, Marlowe thinks. If Eren and Connie weren't his teammates, Marlowe would hate them. At least, he hates them when they play like this. Eren and Connie have been on the same teams since they were children, with a sixth sense for the other's movement on the ice. During the scrimmage, they skate circles around him, a ballet of little twisting fake-outs, and Connie, as always, sets Eren up for another shot. Few of his teammates can get a shot past Franz. But Eren can.

Jean rolls his eyes. Don't gloat, you morons; they're not real goals, he thinks.

Marlowe's frustration isn't lost on Erwin. For the next round, he switches up the teams. It's a challenge to keep up with Eren, but if Marlowe's honest with himself, he'd rather play with him than against him.

Reiner blocks a shot from Connie with his chest, before Bert even has to flinch. Connie laughs. You are a human wall, he thinks. But the split second distraction allows Jean to sweep in for another shot. There's no getting past Bert, and Jean knows it. If he did, he'd even be worried. But the better they all get, the more fun it gets, Eren thinks. Only a handful of his Trost teammates play in the summers: Connie, Bert, Reiner, and Boris. He wishes more of them would.

Eren slips into an altered state of consciousness when he plays. There is only the ice, only the moment, only his drive of baseless, inexplicable fury. Action, reaction. Years of responses encoded into his behavior decode themselves in fast, elegant chains. It's the only time he finds himself thinking with with his whole body, his whole self, as opposed to solely his anxious brain, or just his genitals.

And it's fun. God, is it fun. Eren and Connie's untamable joie de vivre elevates the entire team. For Mike and Erwin, it's the reason they coach.

**

Armin laces up his skates again backstage and feels himself relax. The pressure on his feet is a signal: freedom is nigh. When he steps onto the ice, into the glow of the lights, he feels like a fish thrown back in the water. Or perhaps a mermaid, though he's not sure he'd consider himself a mythical creature. Nonetheless, there's a sense of belonging he doesn't feel anywhere else.

In the center of the ice he meets Daniela, his former coach Rico's daughter. An elvish fourteen year old with a love of practical jokes, and much to Armin's relief, still light enough for him to lift.

"That's gonna be you," Armin whispered to her two years prior, backstage at the ice palace in Boston, through the head of his Rat King costume. Daniela, dressed as a snowflake, watched their friend skate the part of Clara with an expression of greedy awe. She turned to Armin with a wicked smile he would never forget.

She gives him the same wicked smile now. Armin takes her hand before the music starts. There's something to be said about skating with someone whose joy is electric, who doesn't want to be anywhere else on Earth but on the ice. When the Disney choreography began to get stale, and the company found their faces felt like plastic, with stuck-on smiles, Armin realized he missed Mitras. He'd performed with more talented skaters. But few of them with the same raw desire.

When the music begins, Armin slips into an altered state of consciousness. It's different between performing and competing, and it's different being alone than it is to skate with someone else. What holds it all together is the constancy of the moment. Only the ice, only the lights, only the movement, and whatever feeling underlies them. Armin's never tried drugs, though he's gotten offers. He wonders if any of them provide an escape from his head as good as this.

He knows every measure of the music by heart; he understudied the part of the prince for several seasons. But with all of Levi's new choreography for his individual programs, pushing him to the blistering limits of his abilities, it feels good to sink back into something familiar, the long-memorized movements playing on their own accord.

When the number finishes and they step off the rink, Daniela rubs her hands together excitedly. "This is so much fun," she says. Armin smiles. It is.

**

Eren and Jean say nothing to each other after practice. Bert and Reiner notice the silence, and exchange a curious glance. A wide grin creeps across Reiner's face and he turns to Jean. Bert pinches his shoulder and pulls him back as the others leave the locker room. "Reiner. Leave him alone," Bert says. "You've done enough for today. Look at him. He's gonna' have a meltdown."

"I know," Reiner says. "That's why it's so great."

"Reiner. Jean is our friend," Bert says gently. "Eren is our friend. I know it's really funny to see them miserable. But it's not our job to _make_ them miserable. They do that just fine on their own."

"Fine," Reiner grumbles.

Eren turns into the north rink to find Mikasa. She waves and points to the locker room. Eren nods. He waits for her on the bleachers, still warm from the practice and the short, scalding shower that followed. He opens his phone.

 _Daniela Brzenska was with Armin Arlert._ Eren studies the photo: Armin and a young woman sit on a bench with their backs to a cinderblock wall, their feet propped up in front of them, the jagged tips of their blades gleaming. They both wear forest green sweatshirts. _when u match by accident_ , the caption reads, _#brotherfromanothermother. Annie Leonhardt and 11 others like this._

Eren pauses. No, he thinks, it'll be creepy. It'll be too soon. He'll think I was stalking him. Eren takes a deep breath. He clicks 'like.' He feels another surge of adrenaline. This is not the good, fun adrenaline, he thinks, like he feels while playing hockey. This is the bad kind, this is like slipping on ice where it's not supposed to be, like forgetting to salt the driveway after shoveling it. God, he's so photogenic, Eren thinks. Then he has a terrible thought. If he fucks everything up with Armin, would Marco be interested?

Eren looks up to see Marco with an arm around Jean, who stands on the other side of the low wall to the rink. How does he go from zero to hug that fast, Eren wonders. Is it just an Italian thing? Or does Marco actually have a thing for horses? Eren scoffs. Well, he thinks, even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while. Perhaps he ought to be happy for Jean, take it as a good omen. If even Horseface has an admirer—and a hot admirer, no less—then surely some hot person out there is into him. Right?

Eren pictures Armin smiling at him and sighs.

**

Eren braces himself when he opens the door. But Rose isn't there. He notices his mother's coat is missing from its hook. She must have taken her out.

He and Mikasa hear the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen: rhythmic and precise. They look at each other. Dad is chopping vegetables, which means one thing: Dad is stressed out. Eren's always found it a little unsettling how much his father likes to cut things. In the summers, it's the hedges; in the winters, he chops food. Of all the ways a surgeon could choose to blow off steam.

"How'd it go, you two?" Grisha's voice calls them from the kitchen. They hang up their coats, step out of their salt-encrusted boots and haul their bags into the living room.

"I got new short program music today," Mikasa says.

"Good, play it for me later." Grisha eviscerates another eggplant. "Eren, you want to help me with this?"

"Sure." Cooking beats doing homework. He measures out careful portions of sumac and oil, puts on a pot of rice, and opens a few cans of chickpeas. He adds his father's meticulous handiwork to a saucepan with a generous sprinkling of fresh thyme. A wonderful smell starts to fill the kitchen and living room. I could invite Armin over for dinner, Eren thinks. What would we make? Eren scrolls through his mental list of recipes.

He wonders what Armin, who seems so refined and well-traveled, would think of the house. Carla's collection of ornate rugs occupies nearly every room, and gilded pages of calligraphy hang framed in most of them as well. Eren's parents keep it fastidiously neat, with his and Mikasa's rooms as the chaotic exception. Eren feels suddenly self-conscious about the state of his room. It's never bothered him before.

As soon as Carla unhooks the dog's leash, Rose sprints into the kitchen and jumps into Eren's arms. It's not that Rose doesn't love the rest of the Jaegers; she even adores them. It's just that Eren is the best. The most special. She licks his face with passionate excitement.

Eren plucks a slice of green pepper from a metal bowl and tosses it into the air. Rose snaps it up immediately. He grabs a sliver of onion and throws it to her.

"Eren, don't do that, she's not supposed to eat table scraps," Carla says.

Eren casts a sheepish glance around the room. He throws Rose a chunk of eggplant.

"Eren. Knock it off," Carla says, filling up a pitcher of water.

He rolls his eyes. Carla scowls. "Eren, when she gets sick and shits everywhere, you are going to be the one to clean it up."

Eren looks incredulous. "From a few vegetables?"

She gives him The Look.

Rose whines expectantly. Eren reaches in the freezer and pulls out an ice cube. He tosses it to her. She pushes it around the floor with her nose and then eats it. Carla crosses her arms. Life, she thinks, is about compromise.

**  
Armin leans against the wall and draws his phone from his pocket. _Eren Jaeger likes a photo you are tagged in._ Armin clicks on his profile, knowing there's nothing new. He still can't help but smile. Daniela can't help but notice: she's never seen Armin smile like this. She slides up next to him and peers at his phone screen.

"Ooh, who's that?"

Armin isn't sure what to say. "Uh...he's...my friend's brother..."

She snatches the phone out of his hand to get a closer look. "He's really cute!"

Armin laughs. "Dani, he's too old for you and he plays on the wrong team."

"Oh, I wasn't looking for _me_ ," she says. "Let's send him a message!" She starts to type something.

"Dani, no!" Armin grabs her wrist and catches the phone before it clatters to the concrete floor.

She doubles over laughing. "So you _do_ like him, then," she says. Armin's face flushes. Am I that obvious, he wonders. "Why don't you invite him to the show?" She asks.

"I don't know."

"Aw, come on, why not?"

Armin sighs. There are moments when he wishes he had siblings, and the Mitras company is about as close as he's ever gotten. But there are moments like these when he's grateful he doesn't. "I'll think about it." He hunts around in his pocket for his car keys. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**

Eren sits on a bar stool in the kitchen, hunched over a textbook, a laptop glowing next to him. Mikasa, long since finished with her homework, watches TV in the living room with Rose. Eren stares at a diagram of a metabolic pathway. God, it's so complicated, he thinks. He forces himself to memorize the steps. He wishes he'd gotten started on it sooner.

The computer dings. A chat window opens at the bottom of the screen with the name Armin Arlert at the top.

 _hey_  
_what are you up to?_ [9:33 pm]

Eren freezes.

 _hey_  
_well I'm supposed to be doing homework but I'm getting nowhere with it._ Ugh, what a stupid thing to write, Eren thinks.

_aw, what are you working on?_

Eren feels his heart rate rise. At least, he thinks, with the screen between them, he has a little more time to choose his words. But then, he feels like he has less of an excuse if he says something dumb. _biology_ , he types. _You'd think I'd be better at with two parents that are physicians_

 _oh yeah, I forgot Mikasa said your folks were doctors_  
_what kind of medicine?_

Oh god, Eren thinks. This is turning into a real conversation. _an anesthesiologist and an orthopedic surgeon_ , he types. _Mom knocks them out and dad cuts them up._ He cringes as soon as he hits 'enter.' Please think that's funny. There's a pause. Little floating dots appear.

 _haha, well that's one way to put it_  
_I never really got into biology_ , Armin continues. His grandfather is playing bridge, leaving him with the apartment to himself again. The fluffy cat sits on Armin lap; they both ignore the TV playing in the background. _I always had to pretend it was marine biology, even if it wasn't_ , he types. _Like maybe one day this will help a dolphin._

Eren smiles. _did it work?_

 _kind of_ , Armin writes. _mostly i just thought about dolphins a lot and was just happier._

 _Ok, I'm gonna try that_ , Eren types.

_Good. Let me know how it goes._

Eren chuckles, beaming at the screen. He tries to hear the text in Armin's voice and it makes him feel warm. _So what are you up to?_

 _Enjoying my last night off_ , Armin writes. _Not to rub it in or anything. I start tutoring tomorrow_ , he explains.

 _oh by the way_ , Eren pretends he hasn't already looked everything up, _what were you rehearsing for?_ He feels a twinge of nervousness, wondering if Armin knows he already knows.

 _oh_ , there's a pause. Then a URL appears in the little window. _This is the company I used to skate with._

Eren recognizes the link. He waits a minute, as if looking at it for the first time. _This is what you said you could do in your sleep?!_

Armin feels embarrassed. The cat fidgets in his lap as if she knows. _I was an understudy for them for a long time_ , he writes.

_Ok, that makes a little more sense!_

_Actually I used to have dreams about doing this choreography. So in some ways, I kind of actually do it in my sleep._

_Haha, that's awesome._ Eren shuts his textbook.

 _Do you ever have dreams about playing hockey?_ Please don't think that's a weird thing to ask, Armin thinks.

 _Sometimes,_ Eren writes. _Usually before a tournament_.

_Do you ever dream in Spanish?_

Eren smiles. _Yes! Those are the best._

 _They say that's how you know you're getting fluent_ , Armin types.

Over the course of the conversation, Eren feels himself becomes less nervous, but no less excited. _wait so when are you competing next?_ Eren asks him.

 _probably midwest regionals at the end of january_ , Armin says. _There's an invitational in Toronto before then though. So I might do that one too._

Eren knows both competitions; Mikasa placed in them the two previous years. _where's midwest this year?_

 _Madison_ , Armin types.

Not far from Chicago, Eren thinks. He almost asks if Armin needs a roadie. He decides against it.

_Want to help me pick out music?_

_sure_ , Eren says.

 _So I've narrowed it down to these 3._ A stack of links appears. The first is a fervent gypsy-sounding violin piece from Cirque du Soleil. The next sounds unmistakably like a car commercial, though Eren likes it. The last is a strange electronic track called _Four Ton Mantis_ , dark and dramatic, but with nuance. Eren plays it again.

 _I like all of them_  
_but i think the last one is the best_ , Eren writes.

_i like that one the best too._

Eren's face falls when Mikasa walks in the room, yawning. He doesn't want to pique her curiosity or invoke her criticism. He switches to a different browser tab. She gives him a hug good night.

"Can you pick me up from practice in the morning?" she asks. Grisha will take her to the rink on the way to his early-morning surgery shift.

"Yeah, that's fine," Eren says. He's more than happy to do it if there's a chance he'll see Armin. He just doesn't want her to know. Once she leaves, he switches back to their conversation.

 _I should probably get some sleep_ , Armin says.

 _early practice tomorrow?_ Why am I asking him things I already know, Eren wonders.

 _yeah, I got the 7 am slot after Mikasa!_  
_anyways_  
_good to talk to you_

No fucking kidding, Eren thinks. _yeah, you too_  
_I'll talk to you later_

_good night :)_

Eren realizes his face is sore from smiling. When he finally falls asleep, he dreams about dolphins in Spanish.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to update for another few days, but then this little chapter just kind of happened. Anyways, thanks so much to everyone who has left me comments! They make writing this even more fun:)

Armin lies staring at the ceiling. His body feels exhausted, but sleep doesn't come. The cat lies curled up next to his head.

It is kind of lonely, he thinks. But then, that's partially by design. This is what you wanted, he tells himself. You leave the country for a year and then move to a city where you only know a few people. What do you expect?

He doesn't miss home much yet, just a handful of friends. I should call them soon, he thinks. He misses the public junior high school he went to, full of colorful misfits he felt at home with. He spent a miserable Freshman year at a small private high school with a band of upperclassmen who took great pleasure in shoving him into lockers.

"They don't like anybody 'shiny,'" one friend explained. "They've never won anything in their life. So you come in here and you could skip a grade if you wanted to, and you have all these skating medals and it just...pisses them off."

"Yeah, plus, they all know that even if you never touched your skates again, you'd probably be good at anything you wanted to do," another said.

I guess Levi was right about strong feelings, Armin thinks. Sick of keeping his head down at school, he made of point of being especially flamboyant on the ice. I'll be so shiny they can't fucking stand it, he told himself. He always found it ironic: the things the adults in his life loved him for the most were the things that brought him the most grief among his peers. He supposed it was bad enough to have an effeminate, androgynous appearance and demeanor. To be talented on top of that pushed every button.

"I'm sick of trying to understand them," he told his friends. "I wish they would understand me." He got on a flight to New York, aced his audition, signed a year-long contract, and tried to put all of it out of his mind.

He rolls over onto his side and looks at his phone. It's past midnight, which makes him nervous. He contemplates taking a sleeping pill; they're in no short supply with his grandfather being a psychiatrist. But he can't guarantee the effects will wear off in time. There's one other activity that will put him to sleep for sure. Armin looks sheepishly at the cat, picks her up, and puts her outside. He shuts his bedroom door.

He unlocks his phone again with the intention of scrolling through tumblr for porn. But when he opens the browser, it's still set to Eren's profile. Armin sighs and falls back on the bed. Is there really something wrong with Eren, Armin wonders, or was Mikasa just being petty and mean for the sake of entertainment? He has no basis for comparison, after all; he has no brothers of his own. Don't all siblings talk shit about each other?

The pixels of his phone screen form Eren's mischievous smile. Certainly Eren's not the first guy Armin's ever been attracted to. But in Armin's experience, they almost never have the personality to match, and disappointment feels inevitable. Armin swipes through the photos for what feels like the hundredth time. He's drawn to confident people—he couldn't be friends with Marco or Annie if he wasn't. He likes Eren's bravado, and if he didn't like Eren, he'd be jealous of it. But he likes the way Eren's swagger dissolves in his presence, the way his body language changes, the slight delay to everything he says. When Eren talks to him, he softens into something more relatable, something more vulnerable, Armin thinks; something a little more like him.

Armin pulls a box of tissues from a drawer and lays back down. He sighs and shuts his eyes. He pictures the men's locker room at the north rink, never crowded, used mostly by other figure skaters. He imagines himself showering late at night, after the last open sessions and hockey practices end. Eren saunters in, still in his heavy gear. Armin watches him strip if off. Eren joins him in the shower and rinses off, still flushed and sweaty from practice. Armin runs his hands over Eren's soapy skin. Heavy steam fills the tile room, and Eren presses Armin's body into the wall, kissing him. Eren's green eyes flash and he kneels down to take Armin's cock in his mouth, teasing him with his fingers. The sound of their breathing and panting echoes off the tile.

Then another figure appears in the door frame, a manager, or maybe an owner. Armin pictures a tall, blonde, intimidating hockey coach he's spotted a few times around the rink in this role. "The rink is closed, you're not supposed to be here," the man says sternly. Eren turns around to negotiate. They make a deal: you can stay, but I get to watch you fuck him.

They leave the door to the shower open. The man sits across from them on the edge of the bench between the lockers. Eren stands behind Armin with one hand around his cock and the other around his neck. The man unzips his pants and liberates an alarmingly large erection which he strokes slowly as he watches. Armin kneels down, then rests on his forearms; he looks innocently up at their voyeur while Eren licks his asshole. Eren presses down on the small of Armin's back, arcing his hips up. He spits into his hand and rubs it on his shaft, his tip glossy with precum. He pushes himself slowly into Armin; he grabs a handful of Armin's wet hair, the other hand on Armin's hip, pulling him back. The floor is hard against his knees and arms as Eren thrusts into him, more emphatic and theatrical than he would be if they were alone, pulling the two of them into a more flattering position for their audience of one. But Armin can handle the discomfort, tempered by the lurid thrill of being on display.

Armin pictures Eren giving the man his classic mischievous glare, as if to ask, 'do you like what you see?' The man grits his teeth, a little stream of cum spilling into the handkerchief from his pocket.

Armin fingers himself until he thinks he might sprain his hand. He stretches his stiff fingers as he cleans himself up. He lies dazed on the bed and sinks back into the theater of his mind. Armin pictures the manager leaving. He straddles Eren's lap, his arms draped around his neck. After the thrill of being watched comes the thrill of being alone, and Eren's hands and lips are light on Armin's body, taking their time.

He forces himself to get up to wash his hands. He slips on his bathrobe and switches on the bathroom light with his forearm. He looks up at his reflection from the sink. The harsh fluorescent lights make him look haggard and desiccated, he thinks. But when his robe slips open, he feels satisfied with the pattern of shadows cast by his chest and abs, more defined than they used to be.

He has no intention of mentioning his exhibitionist tendencies to anyone; he figures it should be obvious by nature of his chosen sport. He falls asleep, pulled under by the sudden onset of drowsiness, before shame can take shape in his mind.

**

Eren sits on the edge of a dock with his feet in the water. The dolphins look at him and make little clicking, chattery laughs.

« Claro, sí », Eren says. « Pero...no quiero que Armin piense que soy—»

He hears footsteps behind him and turns around. Armin walks toward him, barefoot. "Eren," he says, smiling. "Were you talking about me?"

Eren hears a distant bell. It gets louder. Armin and the dolphins vanish. Eren opens his eyes and swipes his phone off of the night table to shut off the alarm. His room is filled with faint gray light. Snow blots out the view of the street below and the sun struggling to rise.

Few things short of a house fire can rouse Eren in the mornings, especially the quiet winter ones, when everything is blanketed in snow. When he gets downstairs, he sees his mom has already left for kickboxing. He doesn't have to conceal his hope that he'll see Armin. He grabs a brown paper sack from the refrigerator and shoves his bags in the car. He feels strangely lucid behind the steering wheel. Perhaps Armin, he thinks, is a little blonde house fire.

When Eren gets to the Iceplex, the lone dark-haired figure sailing through the air in the north rink isn't Mikasa, it's Levi. The clock reads 7:05. Eren opens the door hesitantly. He recognizes Armin's music from the night before. Levi releases the blade he holds behind his head and comes out of a spin, drifting into complicated footwork without seeming to notice Eren.

Eren's never seen Levi in anything other than the stiff, heavy coat he always wears. He skates wearing a fitted navy t-shirt and the same tight black pants. He expected Levi to be in good shape. But not this good. Not ripped.

Eren's never seen Levi skate before. Not in person, anyways; Mikasa had shown him a video when she first began skating with him, but it didn't do him justice. Levi is nothing short of graceful. But there's a sinister edge to his movements. Eren can't shake the image of a dangerous animal that comes to mind watching Levi move. He supposes Levi must be choreographing Armin's program. He wonders how much of Levi's sharp demeanor Armin will try to replicate.

The door cracks open. A frazzled-looking Armin walks in, wearing a slate gray parka lined with dense white faux fur. His hair hangs in his face, his backpack hangs off of one shoulder. But when he notices Eren, he cracks a little smile. "Hey," he says.

"Hey...are you all right?" Eren asks.

"Yeah," Armin sighs. "I just...overslept," he says.

Levi skates to the edge of the ice. "You are late."

Yes, Armin thinks; I know. No other thought is so prominent in his mind. Armin woke up furious with himself for setting his alarm for 6 PM instead of 6 AM. He hit a land speed record blazing up Lake Shore Drive to Lincoln Park. He's never been late to meet Levi before, and the thought of Levi's possible reaction filled him with panic and dread. But Levi seems more perplexed than disappointed.

Mikasa walks out of the women's locker room and smiles at them. Levi gives her a little hug over the low wall. She turns to Armin. "Hey. Have a good practice. I'll see you this afternoon?" She hugs him too.

"Yeah," he says. Mikasa turns to leave, Levi turns to retrieve his coat from the other side of the rink, and Armin turns to Eren, smiling. "I'll see you later." He hugs him without hesitation. The bulk of his coat separates them more than he would like, but the hug lasts longer than he expects; when he starts to pull back, Eren's arms are still around him, and his cheek brushes Armin's. They exchange another awkward glance as Eren follows Mikasa out the door.

Eren feels a little surge of warmth that stays with him throughout the day.

**

Armin's blades catch and his hip strikes the ice. "Shit," he mutters as he pushes himself back up.

"You are ok? You are not injured?"

Armin shakes his head. He's fine. Just tired. And going to have a colorful bruise.

« Khorosho, prodolzhai ». Keep going. Levi's early morning speech is peppered with Russian; his English is still waking up.

Armin tries the sequence again. It all connects intuitively, and Levi's style of choreography suits him, Armin thinks. But it's fast. And new. And at the frontier of his ability. He doesn't land the last jump. He falls again and hits his hip in the same place. He inhales sharply through his teeth. Levi gives him a hand off the ice. He knows it hurts; Armin doesn't need to say anything. He squints from the pain. He tries it again. A different fall. This time, it's his knee that contacts the ice first. "Fuck," he whispers to himself.

"We will take a break for a moment, then we will start again," Levi says. "You have tea?"

Armin shakes his head. He didn't have time to make himself anything to drink or eat. Levi pours a steaming stream of jasmine from his thermos into Armin's water bottle.

"If you are going to skate with me, you are going to fall a lot," Levi says plainly, with no malice. He looks into the distance. "The last time I skated in an exhibition, it was two years ago. At the end, someone says to me, 'you make it look so easy,'" Levi remembers a starry-eyed Erwin, unable to conceal his admiration. "And I tell him, 'yes, it looks easy, because it was hard for thirty years.'" Levi shrugs. He turns back to Armin. "You know, Arya, this is not a two minute program. It is a twelve year program. Everything you have done since the beginning goes into this program." He sips his tea and looks away pensively again. "Every jump you land contains every single fall you ever make. You remember that. I give you this choreography because I know you can do it."

Armin appreciates the vote of confidence. Pain blooms into his knee; he moves it around to keep from getting stiff.

"You need more speed going into your jumps," Levi says. "It will give you more rotation. You will not have the landing problem." Armin looks anxious. "This afternoon, you do just the footwork. Just transitions. You build speed." He glances at the clock. "Do it again now, while we have time."

Armin puts away his tea and strokes a few laps around the rink to warm back up. He tries it again, with no jumps.

« Khorosho. Yeshche raz ». One more time. Armin runs through it again, slightly faster. « Luchshe. Yeshche raz ». Better. Again.

The clock reads 7:58. He gives the jumps one more shot. The landing is wobbly and awkward, and he compresses his knee at just the right angle to send a blade of pain up his leg. But he doesn't fall.


	9. Chapter 9

Jean feels a little hollow as he walks through the hall. Even Eren notices something off about him, his slightly contracted gait. The prospect of having a date and getting laid burns in Jean's mind like a kind of holy grail. But along with it comes an obscure malaise. His decision to temporarily abandon his pursuit of women to get together with Marco feels a little like leaving a country embroiled in a civil war for a new country, involved in a slightly different war.

Jean's phone buzzes. Another text from Marco. A photo. He raises an eyebrow.

Marco beams in a selfie. _What do you think of my uniform?!? I like it so much!_ He wears the blue blazer and tie from the international school in their neighborhood. Shit, Jean thinks. He loves it, although it makes him feel like a pauper in jeans and sneakers.

 _You look like you walked out of the J.Crew catalog_ , Jean types.

Marco sends back a string of happy faces. Jean sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket.

Bert looks at him. "What's the matter?"

"He keeps texting me," Jean says.

Eren rolls his eyes. "Like that's a problem."

Jean just looks at the floor. "He's got a whole school full of rich exotic guys to terrorize."

Bert smiles and puts his hand on Jean's shoulder. "Jean. How many times has he texted you today? Like a dozen? Have you considered that maybe he has a type?"

The thought makes Eren cringe with envy. Of all people. Horseface. Eren gives him a sidelong glance as the boys walk into the loud cafeteria. Bert and Reiner leave to go buy food. Eren sits at an empty table across from Jean and sets down his paper sack. He still wishes someone were as enthusiastic about him as Marco is about Jean. But then, he thinks, he kind of likes Armin's reserved nature; something a little different from the rest of his brash, chest-thumping friends.

Jean glances at his phone again and Eren is hit with a surge of nausea. What if Marco is too intense for Jean? What if Jean likes Armin's reserved nature too?

Jean notices Eren looking at him with an expression of dazed disgust. "What?" he says, looking up from his phone.

Eren shakes his head. "Nothing." He pulls a dense sandwich out of a plastic bag, but his usually ravenous appetite is gone. He feels ill. The the thought of competing with Jean for Armin's attention makes him feel like lying on the ice until his soul leaves his body. Marco is a necessary distraction, he thinks. But if it weren't for Armin, Eren knows he'd be seething with jealousy from watching Marco shower Jean with attention. Which makes Armin a necessary distraction, too. All of which, of course, masks the most nauseating realization of all. If it weren't for the two figure skaters suddenly showing up in their lives, Eren would have nothing at all to buffer him from the fact that Jean clashes so dramatically with the image Eren has of him burned into his mind, of a gangly, awkward, skinny junior high school kid. No, the older Jean gets, the better he looks. And Eren detests it. Marco isn't blind. And Eren knows a guy like Marco can afford to be picky.

Boris and Marlowe sit down next to Jean. While they chat about a class he isn't in, Eren pulls out his phone again. The last few times he and Armin talked, Armin made the first move. All right, Eren thinks; I'm not going to make him do all the work.

 _How'd it go with the new music?_ He types.

Armin sits reading in the sun-filled winter garden on the top floor of the Harold Washington library, having just finished up his session with Moblit. He massages his aching knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices movement on his laptop screen. He sets down his copy of _Les Fleurs du Mal_ and smiles.

 _Ok_ , he types. _Hard, though. I think I fell more today than I have in years._

_Oh no are you ok?_

Armin is a little touched by Eren's unnecessary concern. _I mean it kind of goes with the territory_ , he writes. _You guys fall all the time, right?_

 _Well yeah_ , Eren types, _but we're covered in pads._

_Ok, but no one's swinging a metal stick at me._

Eren grins. _We have masks and helmets for that_.

Armin laughs quietly, not wanting to break the low level of noise. Your move, Arlert, he says to himself. _Ok, clearly there's only one way to tell who has it worse._

 _Yeah? And what's that._ Eren chuckles to himself.

_Compare bruises._

Which would require taking off our pants, Eren thinks. He bites his lip. He knows Armin's kidding. But it still makes him sweat. He takes a deep breath and decides to go with it. _Ok but it has to be after my game tomorrow. Then it'll be even._

_Yeah? Tough opponent coming up?_

_They're almost as good as us. Almost._ If he didn't play in the summers with a handful of the players from Crystal Lake, Eren would hate them as much as the rest of his team does.

_I see._

_Oh we're gonna kill them, but at least they'll put up a fight._

_I gotta see this_ , Armin says.

 _Well it's gonna be at north point so you'll hear it before you see it._ Eren's never played in front of someone he's really wanted to impress. The thought makes him excited. He looks around sheepishly. Another question he already knows the answer to: _Are you coming to the rink tonight?_

Armin laughs. Nice to know you want to see me too, he thinks. _Yeah, I usually go to the 4-6 open session._

 _I'll try to run into you after practice_. Eren's not sure what else to say.

_Ok, but just don't actually run into me because I've fallen enough today._

Eren smiles as if he's looking at a basket of puppies. _I can't make any promises_ , he writes. His grin turns mischievous again.

Reiner sits down next to Eren and grins an evil grin. "Who ya talkin' to?" Eren's face falls.

Bert sits down across from them and looks delighted. "Is it Armin?"

Eren glances around. "Yes," he says discreetly. Bert smiles and folds his hands; Reiner rubs his together excitedly. "Don't get ideas," Eren says. Bert and Reiner look at each other and laugh. The only one who needs attention as badly as Jean is Eren.

**  
Armin finishes lacing up his skates when his jacket pocket vibrates.

 _Armin guess what I learned a new word in English!_ glows the latest text from Marco.

 _What is it?_ Armin is afraid to ask.

 _Procrasturbate_ , Marco writes.

Armin leans back against the cinderblock wall and slaps his phone down onto the carpeted bench. It continues to vibrate. He picks it back up.

_It means when you are jacking it instead of working._

_Yeah I figured_ , Armin types. _Did Jean teach you that?_

 _He is SO funny!_ Marco writes.

Great, Armin thinks. I'm thrilled for you. _Ok, I'm gonna go skate, I'll see you later_.

Marco sends a string of emoji that Armin doesn't understand. He shakes his head and sticks his phone and jacket in his locker. Marco and Mina skate with Oulo and Petra during the session just after Armin's ends. In the meantime, Marco's supposed to be at a tutorial session after school, though Armin wonders how much studying he's actually getting done. He sighs. At least he has someone to pour all his affection onto, Armin thinks. And at least it's not Eren. The thought of trying to compete with Marco's effervescent charm makes Armin feel paralyzed, frozen. He prays that Marco doesn't drive Jean insane.

**  
Marco strides into the Iceplex as if walking on air. Armin spots him from the other end of the long hall: his silhouette and gait are unmistakeable. With close friends, Marco doesn't bother with air kisses; he actually kisses Armin's face. Armin would be embarrassed by it if he didn't feel so starved for touch. He decides to take what he can get.

They sit on the benches looking into the south rink and watch the hockey practice. Marco sighs.

"What's wrong?" Armin asks.

"They are all so...covered up," Marco says.

Armin lays his face in his hand. "Yes, Marco. They're playing hockey. Of course they're covered up."

Marco shrugs. "Oh, I know. It is just too bad."

All is well in Marco's world, it seems. School is the best. The uniforms are the best. The Kefkas are the best. Franz would be the best if he had introduced him to Jean right away. Petra and Oulo are the best. Mina is the best, and—"Hey, are you ok?" Marco turns to Armin. "You seem sad today," he says, in one of his moments of intuition that reminds Armin why they're friends in the first place.

"I'm fine, I'm just tired," Armin says. It's mostly true.

Marco runs his hand down Armin's back a few times. Armin doesn't want to admit how good it feels. Marco pinches Armin's shoulder, in the place where Armin always has knots of tension. Armin deflates a little. "Thanks," he mutters.

Marco just smiles.

**

When the practice ends, Eren keeps to himself, plunged back into the swirling hell of his own thoughts. He avoids looking at Jean in the locker room, but can't help catching a few glimpses. The better Jean looks, the more nauseated Eren feels. Not just from hating his own attraction to someone he loves to hate. What if Armin has a type, too, he thinks, and that type is not me?

Marco stands with one arm around Mina and the other around Armin, next to the air hockey table at the entrance to the arcade. Armin has already taken off his skates. Mikasa slams her hands onto the ventilated table in defeat; Annie tosses her head back and cackles. Mikasa just glares.

"You know I figured out pretty early that murdering everybody at air hockey was not the best way to get boys to like me," Annie says.

Mikasa laughs. "And since when were you interested in getting boys to like you?"

"For about three months. When I was fourteen," Annie says.

Eren gathers his bags. The players filter out of the locker room, most to the parking lot. Eren walks into the atrium. He doesn't expect to see two blonde heads at the entrance to the arcade: Annie's tilted back in victorious laughter, Armin's hung in exaggerated defeat.

Eren crosses his arms when he gets to the table. "Who let him play against you?" He says to Annie in mock offense. Annie is the rink's unofficial-but-undisputed air hockey champion, leaving her mostly-male opponents angry, stunned, a little turned on, or some combination thereof. Only Eren has come close to beating her. She just grins.

"It's ok," Armin says holding a hand up. "I have to lose at _something_." He smiles at Eren. Eren feels weak.

Marco looks excitedly past Eren to see if Jean is waiting for him. He excuses himself dramatically, kissing the top of Armin's head and giving Eren a back-cracking hug. Annie glances at Mina. How on Earth do you put up with him, she wonders.

She turns back to Eren. "Armin's pretty good. He almost got me. Almost. You ought to play him." Eren looks uneasy. "I'm serious!" she says. "Don't just let him win, either! He's really good."

"All right," Eren says, feeling his insides knot up. "Why not?" He sets his bags down and takes Annie's place behind the table. Armin just smiles innocently.

It only takes a few volleys before Armin slams the puck straight into Eren's goal with a resounding thwack. Eren stands motionless for a second.

"Wow," Mikasa says. "You suck at this."

Annie laughs. Eren glares at her with a look that says 'you love to see me suffer, don't you,' and she looks back at him with an evil smile that says, 'I sure do.' Eren can tell Armin is trying as hard as he can not to laugh at him, too. Still he appreciates the restraint.

Eren desperately defends his goal. Armin's shots aren't hard, but they're precise.

"Oh, by the way, I talked to Marcel," Annie says, referring to a mutual friend of hers and Eren's. During the school year, he plays for Crystal Lake; in the summers, he's often on Eren's regional team. "He says they have a new nickname for you."

"Oh god, what?" Eren groans.

" _El Diente_ ," she says maliciously. Eren scoffs; Armin looks confused.

"So...we like, get Christmas cards from dentists all over the state thanking us for how much business Eren sends them," Mikasa says. Eren gives her a pleading look. For Christ's sake Mika, please not now, he thinks.

But Armin laughs in spite of himself. "Impressive," he says with a nod. 

Eren hits the little plastic puck as hard as he can. It ricochets straight back into his own goal. Armin stifles a laugh, his eyes apologetic and wide.

"Jesus, Eren," Mikasa says. "When did you get so much worse at this?" She looks mischievously at Armin. Throw me a fucking bone, Mika, Eren thinks. 

Armin beats Eren 5 to nil. The vents in the table shut off. Eren fights to conceal his embarrassment. Please find this endearing, he thinks. Please.

"What can I say," Armin says, turning his palms up. "I'm really proud to have this...completely useless skill," he looks guilelessly up at Eren.

"What other useless talents do you have?" Annie asks Eren. "Now that we can strike air hockey off the list."

Eren crosses his arms. "Well I don't know, Annie," he says with exaggerated coldness. "I'll have to think about that." He squints at her. "Animals seem to like me, I guess," he shrugs.

Annie puts her hands on her hips. "Eren. That's not a very nice thing to call Armin."

Mikasa and Mina chuckle. Armin glares at Annie. You traitor, he thinks. Eren's face flushes.

"I want hot chocolate," Annie says. "You guys want anything?"

"I'm gonna' get some tea," Mikasa decides.

"I'll come with you," Mina says. They leave the boys at the table. Annie glances over her shoulder and winks at Armin.

"God, girls are mean," Eren says.

"Oh, come on," Armin says. "You can't go off of a sample size of three."

Eren rolls his eyes. "Ok, I stand corrected. _Those_ girls are mean," he says. "You know this year they all went as witches for Halloween, and it was...super convincing." Eren squints in the direction of the cafe. "The one day of the year when they can really be themselves."

Armin laughs and sets his hand on his hip. "What did you do to get on their bad side?"

"I wish I knew," Eren says with mock gravity. "I wish I knew."

"...Best out of three?" Armin asks.

"Sure," Eren says.

Armin switches the table back on. He scores again quickly.

Eren hangs his head. "It's not fair."

"What?"

Eren looks back up at Armin. "You keep distracting me," he says. Armin looks confused. "With your face," Eren clarifies.

Armin grins at the table. He sends the puck back across it. He's quiet for a moment. "That's no excuse, you know," he says, scoring another goal. "I'm playing with the same handicap."

They look at each other for a moment, fighting huge smiles. Eren finally retrieves the puck from the base of the table and sends it lazily back.

"So do animals actually like you?" Armin asks.

"Oh," Eren says proudly. "They love me."

Armin nods. "I bet," he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Armin just shakes his head. "Nothing. I don't know."

**

Armin walks with Eren and Mikasa out to the parking lot. Mikasa throws her bag into the back of the car. "Are you going to be free Wednesday night?" she asks Armin.

"Uh...maybe? If I can get out of rehearsal."

"Annie's coming over for dinner after practice," she says. "You should come."

Eren gives her a confused look. We did not talk about this, he thinks. He has the night off from practice because of the Tuesday game.

"Eren's going to cook," she says persuasively. Eren's eyes widen. No. Mika, what are you doing, he thinks.

Armin shrugs. "I'd love to come if I can make it. I'll see what I can do," he says. Mikasa gives him a hug and climbs into the passenger seat. "I'll let you guys know," he says to Eren. Eren nods. They look at each other awkwardly for a second.

"What time does your game end tomorrow?" Armin asks.

"Six thirty," Eren says. Armin makes a mental note to tell Ilse he'll be late for rehearsal that day.

"Oh my god," Eren mutters.

"Come here," Armin says. He reaches for Eren and wraps his arms around his waist. Eren pulls Armin closer. Even through their thick coats, his body feels so good, Eren thinks. Armin raises up just slightly on his toes and kisses Eren just beneath his ear. It makes Eren shiver a little. He kisses Armin's cheek. Oh my god, Eren thinks; his skin is so soft. It gives him a rush.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Armin says. He hasn't let go yet.

"Yeah," Eren says. He releases Armin and takes a deep breath. He touches Armin's neck and gives him a light kiss on the lips. "See you then," he says, looking at the ground, his face flushed. He looks back up at Armin. Armin smiles and turns toward the far end of the crowded parking lot.

Mikasa says nothing when Eren gets in the car. She just smiles, texting Annie.

"So I'm cooking on Wednesday," he says, turning the key in the ignition.

"You are now," she says.

"God, Mika. Give me a fucking break."

Mikasa scoffs. "Oh, please," she says. "You're gonna thank me later."


	10. Chapter 10

Mikasa says nothing to Eren as they drive home. She just glances at him occasionally between texts.

Eren feels himself glowing with warmth; a kind of radiant awe spreads through his chest. A feeling he never wants to go away.

**

Armin pushes open the door to the apartment.

"Well you've looked better," his grandfather says, glancing up from the dining room table strewn with documents.

"Thanks, Grandpa," Armin says.

His grandfather laughs. "I just mean you look tired. Get in here, kid." He stands up, about Armin's height with bright white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He gives Armin a hug. "You want anything to eat?"

Armin releases his bag to the floor. "I'm ok, they had food at rehearsal."

"All right, well there's that casserole you like in the fridge."

Armin puts on a kettle of water. He looks back at the documents covering the table, some with his grandfather's letterhead: from the office of Dr. Emil Nielsen. "What's all this?" Armin asks.

"For the symposium next weekend," Emil says.

"Oh. Right." Armin slumps into a chair, suddenly graceless from fatigue and the lack of ice beneath his feet. It's unnerving to be this tired. And it's only Monday. "Why are you going to Vancouver in December?"

Emil grins wryly. "Because the director is a cheapskate. I voted for Miami." He shuffles some of his papers around. "I'm sure it'll be perfectly nice," he says. "The west coast's not quite the same frozen hell Chicago is this time of year." He glances at the clock. "Long day for you, eh? You sure you're not doing too much?"

Armin looks pensive for a moment. "I think once the show is over it'll be fine."

Emil looks skeptical. "All right, if you say so. You got plenty on your plate these days." Armin just gives a little half smile. "You sure you're ok?"

Armin hesitates. He is ok. Mostly. But he's afraid if he goes into detail, he'll get a stack of prescriptions shoved across the table. "I'm fine, I'm just tired. I fell a lot today."

Emil leans back in his chair a little. "Well, that's how it goes. That's what you get for being good. Worse spills." A series of black-and-white photographs hang on the wall behind him. In one, a five-year-old Armin in ice skates holds hands with his grandparents on a frozen lake in Michigan. In another, a woman in skates poses with an enormous bouquet of white roses: Lena Jansen, reads the typewritten caption; Copenhagen, 1961. "That's what your grandmother used to say, anyways." She'd be proud of you, Emil thinks. 

Armin pushes himself up out of his chair and pulls the whistling kettle off the stove. He pours himself a cup of chamomile.

"You sure you don't want a glass of wine?" Emil asks.

"I'm ok," Armin says, sitting back down.

"In all seriousness, though, are you able to sleep?"

"Yeah," Armin lies. "I think the jet lag's finally wearing off."

"Well, that's good." Emil slides a stack of papers into a folder and glances at his laptop screen. "There's a bunch of epsom salt in there, by the way, if you need it." He nods in the direction of one of the bathrooms.

"Oh. Yeah. That's a good idea. Thanks."

"Don't work yourself too hard, kid," Emil says, not looking up. "You got the rest of your life for that."

Armin deposits his bag onto his bedroom floor and sets the steaming mug of tea on the night table. He peels off his clothes and observes himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Already lurid blue patches cover his hips and legs. He feels like a grotesque porcelain vase, a china factory reject, with the paint all screwed up in asymmetrical splotches. Nothing he hasn't seen before. But not something he's seen in a long time. He slips on his robe and takes his phone and tea into the bathroom.

He pours the white salts into the stream of hot water and feels like a warlock preparing a potion. He lets his body melt into the water. His thoughts immediately turn to Eren. Armin sighs. If it hadn't been for the rehearsal and driving, nothing would have kept him from revisiting the parking lot in his mind a hundred times, picking up where Eren's kiss left off. Involuntarily his feet point forward slightly, just the exact incline needed to reach Eren's lips. Armin's own feel slightly cracked. He makes a mental note to pick up chap stick.

He reaches carefully for his phone, wary of dropping it in the water. He wants to message Eren. He doesn't know what to say.

**

Eren sinks into the living room couch, open books next to him, his computer in his lap. Rose lies on top of his feet to keep them warm, or perhaps safe from some non-existent enemy. He wants to write something to Armin. He doesn't know what.

 _I don't think the dolphin thing is working_ , he writes. Someone just shoot me now, he thinks.

Armin smiles. _Give it a few days_.

_I don't understand how something this complicated can be this boring._

_It's not exactly Márquez, is it?_ Armin types.

 _No writer on earth could make this interesting_ , Eren replies.

_Maybe you need a break :)_

Eren tries to keep from smiling too wide, not wanting to draw attention. He had been quiet during dinner. Mikasa, happily chatting about skating and school, had alluded to nothing. Eren is grateful, but with reservation. He wonders if she has something else up her sleeve, some devious plot to embarrass him. But she had asked if Armin could join them for dinner. Naturally Eren's parents had no objection, and to Eren's knowledge, no suspicion. He wonders how much they even care. They had been frank and clinical in their few discussions of relationships and sex. Use a condom. 'No' means no. 'I'm not sure' means no. You don't owe anyone anything.

 _How'd the rehearsal go?_ Eren writes.

Armin heaves a huge sigh, the tension flowing out of his body. _A little shaky. I think I might have hurt my knee this morning. Levi told me to have Nanaba look at it tomorrow._

_You're working with Nanaba?_

_Yeah_ , Armin says. _I haven't met her yet though._

This time Eren does smile. _Nanaba's awesome! She's one of the trainers for our team. Her husband Mike is one of our coaches. Seriously everyone loves her. She used to play pro hockey in Canada._

 _That's awesome_ , Armin types. He takes a sip of his tea. His skin is pink from the heat. He feels like a peeled shrimp.

 _Like she could kick your ass_ , Eren writes. _But she could kick all of our asses. She's the greatest._

 _Sounds like I'm gonna be in good hands then._ I wish I were in _your_ hands, Armin thinks. He almost writes it. He decides not to. There's a long pause; he searches for words. _I can't get Marco to shut up about Jean._ Armin feels a little ashamed. It's partially true. Marco's enthusiasm is volcanic. But if Eren asks obvious questions to keep the conversation going, then Armin supposes he's not above a little exaggeration.

Eren's not sure what to say. _You can't just tell him to can it?_

_Well, I'm kind of his captive audience since we both don't know that many people here yet._

_Ok, fair_ , Eren types.

_Plus he's not really someone who cools off easily._

_Yeah, didn't seem like it._

_I'm just glad he's happy. Hoping he stays that way. I just don't understand how someone gets that obsessed that quickly._ Armin immediately regrets hitting send.

Eren recoils a little, uneasy. _You don't?_  He immediately wants to take it back.

 _I mean_ , there's a pause occupied with little floating dots. Eren's heart rate increases. Armin sighs into the water. _It's not the being interested part I don't get. Or like, being excited._ Eren glances around the room. Mikasa and his parents haven't noticed the tension in his breathing, still fixated on the TV. _It's just how open he is about it. Like he's not nervous about anything._

Eren bites his lip. _Wait so_ , he pauses, _what do you have to be nervous about?_

Armin hangs his head. Seemingly a million things, but none that he can properly name. He smirks. _You don't get nervous?_

 _This is worse than playing you at air hockey_ , Eren writes. _You just send it right back at me._

Armin chuckles. _Yeah, well, am I winning? ;)_

 _I don't even know what you mean by that!_ Eren feels tense, still trying to hold still, not laugh too hard. Rose jumps up from the floor and lies next to him on the couch. _But yeah of course you are_ , Eren types.

Emil is a bit surprised to hear laughter coming from the bathroom.

 _Good for me_ , Armin says. _What do I get?_

_Dinner on Wednesday and a surprise next time I see you._

_Great. Thanks. Now how am I going to sleep tonight?_ Now Armin's face is sore from smiling.

 _Really hate to do this to you_ , Eren says. _That's what you get for winning._

 _Life is just so hard_ , Armin types.

Eren tilts his head back and shuts his eyes. He's mentally counting down the minutes until he drives to the rink again to pick up Mikasa. He looks at the screen again. _I'd say it's ok because it builds character but I think you're pretty much set in that department._

 _Yeah well I hope I don't let you down_ , Armin writes. He feels himself contract a little. A few miles away, Eren feels the same thing. What if you're wrong about me, Armin thinks. What if I'm not good enough, Eren wonders. What if I can't keep up with up with you?

 _I mean_  
_Likewise_ , Eren types, hesitantly.

 _Well_ , Armin says, _I guess we have to find out_. There's another long pause. _I think you don't give yourself enough credit_ , he writes. _I mean your sister really made you sound like a heathen, I almost wonder if she did it on purpose._

Eren glares in Mikasa's direction. Did she intentionally try to make him look bad? And to what effect? _Well she loves to talk shit, I guess you know that about her by now._

_Yeah. Her other favorite sport besides skating. Somebody ought to give her a trophy._

_NO!_  
_Don't encourage her!_

 _Hahaha, sorry, sorry_ , Armin hashes out quickly in response. _In any case she's been super nice to me._

_Oh come on who wouldn't be nice to you?_

_You'd be surprised_ , Armin writes.

 _Where are they_ , Eren says. _I'm gonna knock their teeth out_.

 _El Diente strikes again_. Armin feels a pang of regret. If he didn't feel so helplessly, magnetically drawn to Eren, he thinks he'd still want him as a friend. He wishes they could have met sooner. He wishes he could have had another character to stick up for him in his darkest days of high school.

_yeah but for justice!_

Armin feels infinitely more relaxed, buoyed by excitement. But fatigue still weighs him down, more painful now than the bruises. _I have to get some sleep_ , he types. _I'm so exhausted._

 _Do it_ , Eren says. _Rest up. You got drill sergeant Levi to deal with in the morning. I want you in top shape_. I really just want you in general, Eren thinks.

_Maybe I'll see you in the morning?_

_Maybe?!_  
_I am gonna be there at 6:58._

 _Well ok then!_ Armin massages his face.

 _Ok, go to sleep_. Eren types.

 _Hey Eren_  
_I already have a coach ;)_  
_I'll see you tomorrow_

Armin drags his leaden body out of the tub and towels off. He sets his alarm and collapses into bed. Sleep claims him immediately.

**

Eren lies awake, unable to sleep. He scrolls through the conversation on his phone one more time. He puts the phone away. He imagines Armin lying next to him, waking up, stretching. Eren imagines kissing him again, playing with his hair, feeling him get hard. Eren pulls off phantom Armin's shirt and underwear.

Eren reaches preemptively for tissues, his erection tenting the fabric of his boxers.

Imaginary Armin lies before him; Eren runs a finger slowly from the pit of his neck through the tight ridge of his abdomen to the tip of his erect cock. In his mind's eye, he licks Armin's shaft with long, slow strokes; one imaginary hand grips the sheets, the other, Eren's hair, guiding him, desperate for more. Armin's body drips with Eren's saliva; his back arches from the torment of Eren's fingers inside him. "You want more?" Eren whispers to the air.

"Yes," it pants back. Eren sees Armin drawing his knees to his chest; he rests his legs over Eren's shoulders, effortlessly flexible, but tight and muscular, tense as Eren penetrates him. The fantasy evaporates as Eren comes into his hand. He crumbles up the dirty tissues and welcomes the sudden delirium. He tries to sink back into the scene: Eren pictures himself having pulled out, coming on Armin's chest, the pearly line of his semen mixing with Armin's, bisecting his toned, panting body.

Eren rolls over and groans. God, he thinks. I don't want to let him down.

**

Eren wakes up clutching his pillow to his chest. He has no memory of reaching for it. In the few minutes left before his alarm sounds, he feels a wave of shame and longing. He wants to know what Armin's body feels like. He wants to wake up to messy blonde hair and sleepy blue eyes.

"You're up early," Carla says, stirring her thick, spiced coffee.

"I couldn't sleep," Eren says, another half-truth.

"You nervous about your game?"

Not in the slightest, Eren thinks. "Uh...a little," he lies.

"You're gonna' do great. Your dad's off tonight, he'll be there. I'll try to make the next one." She refers to her evening call. She gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Eren steps out of the car into the quiet parking lot. His phone reads 6:57. Jesus, it's cold, he thinks. And depressingly gray. A few flurries sink to the ground. He spots a blonde figure walking toward the door. Eren creeps up behind him as quietly as he can. He touches Armin's shoulder. "Armin—"

Armin jolts and turns around. "Oh my god, you startled me—" He clamps his hand across his chest.

It's not how Eren intended to make Armin pant, but he can't say he doesn't like it. He reaches for Armin's waist and the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Armin's body is stiff from the initial shock. It's a light, slow, tentative kiss at first, but when Armin's tongue breaks the gentle seal of Eren's lips and he wraps his arms around Eren's shoulders, relaxing into Eren's hands, Eren wants to die. He pulls Armin closer and lets his fingers wind through Armin's soft hair, his other hand presses on the small of Armin's back.

Finally Armin draws back and sighs; he rests his head on Eren's collarbone. "I'm gonna be late," he says.

"Were you surprised?" Eren grins a wily grin.

Armin just shoots him a look and grabs his gloved hand, pulling him inside. He holds Eren's hand as they walk down the mostly quiet hall. Armin glances into the north rink windows. Mikasa runs through her long program; Levi scrutinizes every movement, oblivious to the boys' presence. Armin reaches for Eren's hips and kisses him one more time.


	11. Chapter 11

Armin's renewed vigor is obvious to Levi. So much so that Levi has to keep from smiling, which is easy, since Levi's greatest talent besides skating is looking stern. Either Armin's knee is in better shape than they each thought, or Armin is too distracted to care, Levi thinks. He still counsels Armin to have it looked at. Passion is no excuse to be cavalier about orthopedics.

**

  
Eren's used to spacing out in class, just not the class he likes the most. The discussion in Spanish drifts back and forth across the room. Eren's absence from it is becoming conspicuous. He stares at the letters on the page, but the meaning doesn't rise so quickly from the ink. His hips still tingle from where Armin touched him earlier, pulling him into another kiss. Eren's always thought of himself as someone who takes initiative. He hadn't expected Armin to be so forward. It had given Eren a rush. The thrill of being wanted.

« So what do you think, Eren? » The teacher asks him. She almost never has to ask directly. Most days it's hard to get him to shut up.

« Uh...I think..., » Eren snaps back to reality, « The speaker...is talking about being in two places at once. Mentally. » My best subject isn't Spanish at all, Eren thinks; it's Bullshit.

« I see. Say more about that. »

« So... » It's these moments when Eren's grateful he can find the words quickly, to obscure his reaching for straws. « Well, each stanza alternates. The speaker's either inside the house or outside trying to deal with people. So like, the outside is a reference to the real world...but the inside is what the speaker's thinking about...like where she wants to be...but she's distracted. » Ok, not bad for something you pulled out of your ass, Jaeger, he tells himself.

« That's an interesting interpretation, » the teacher smiles. « So, what in the text implies that the house is a metaphor for the speaker's mental interior? » It's an open question. A Senior on the other side of the room raises his hand. Satisfied with his contribution, Eren lets his thoughts wander again. Leaving the rink was like abruptly shutting a book he couldn't otherwise put down.

No one had noticed the them embracing in the atrium. With their coats unzipped, hats and gloves shoved into their pockets, and heavy bags on the floor, they had gotten a little bit closer. Eren wrapped his arms around Armin's conveniently narrower shoulders. Armin gripped Eren's hips a little more firmly. But he seemed to be in no rush, kissing Eren deliberately; not controlling, but in control, moving slowly, trying to commit it to memory. Eren found the certitude of Armin's movement unsettling. It's one thing to kiss someone, Eren thinks, his glazed eyes hovering over the pages. It's one thing to kiss someone you really like. Armin had kissed him in a way that said one thing: I know what I want, and it's you.

Eren noticed a faint, nearly imperceptible smirk on Levi's face when he and Armin walked into the rink at the same time. Mikasa left to take her skates off, Armin to put his on, Levi to make another cup of tea. Eren waited in the chill of the rink, too flushed with warmth to notice the artificial cold. In his candid photos, Armin typically has a slightly bewildered, innocent expression. When he glanced back at Eren before he entered the locker room, Eren looked at him with a mystified warmth.

**

Armin looks up from his dueling translations of Baudelaire. Snow drifts silently into the courtyard of the Poetry Foundation. His reflection in the tall windows is flanked by thin, skeletal trees. The skyline glows as if it were already night, and not a depressingly dark afternoon. He glances around the library and sheepishly opens his laptop.

 _You ready for your game?_ Armin cringes as he hits send. But he doesn't know what else to say to Eren. He just wants to talk to him. Some confirmation that Eren is still real.

 _I usually start foaming at the mouth about an hour beforehand. So that's gonna start soon_ , comes the reply. Armin's laughter elicits a few disgruntled stares. _I take it you don't have this problem before you compete._

_I don't, but I'm one of the lucky ones. We have other problems. Marco starts sweating glitter. We have to get a bucket._

_So you don't sprout petals then. That's good._ Eren wonders if he's gone too far, but Armin goes with it.

_It's the tea. Keeps it at bay. That's the real reason Levi makes us drink it._

_I wondered about that!_

_Rumor has it the real reason Levi skates is because it gets thirty degrees colder whenever he walks into a room and the rink is the only place nobody notices._

_Oh my god now it all makes sense!_ Eren types, laughing.

There's a pause. Armin takes a deep breath. _I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight._

Eren stands with his back to his locker, as if in front of a firing squad, frozen. Oh my god, he thinks; I want to see you so badly. He doesn't type it. _Me too_ , he writes. I _'m sorry you're gonna have to see me like this but I can't help what I am._

 _Hey, do whatever you gotta do. Bring the pain._  

 _I bought the other team a case of advil_ , Eren types.

_You're such a gentleman. Off the ice, anyways._

_And I haven't even cooked for you yet._ Panic courses down Eren's spine. It's easy to default to bravado when he's online. What the hell am I going to cook, he wonders. What's something that Armin will like that Annie and Mikasa won't bitch about?

Armin grins, temporarily sated by a few lines of conversation. _I better get going. Gotta get back to the rink soon._

_Yeah for sure. Have a good practice._

_Thanks. I'll see you soon._ It feels good to type it, Armin thinks.

 _Oh hey,_ Eren writes, _I never gave you my number. It's 312-901-8077._

Armin takes out his phone and types _Hi Eren :)_

A text from an out-of-state number shows up on Eren's phone. _Haha now you can't get away from me_ , Eren texts back. Shit, he thinks; please don't think that's creepy. _Ugh, sorry that was creepy._

 _No it's ok_ , Armin writes. _I'm friends with Marco._ Armin sighs. I gotta stop throwing Marco under the bus like this, he thinks. Armin doesn't think it would even occur to Marco to say something negative about him.

Armin shuts his laptop and puts on his coat. On his way out of the prismatic glass building he spots a flyer for a reading: _Then Come Back: The Lost Poems of Pablo Neruda_. He thinks of Eren and sighs. 'Hey, want to come with me to this really nerdy thing where we'll probably be the youngest people there?' Armin imagines asking Eren. Still, he takes a flyer, folds it in half, and slips it into his bag.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he steps out into the cold air. He expects another text from Eren. _1 new Friend Request: Jean Kirstein. 6 Mutual Friends._ Armin accepts it. A few minutes later, his phone vibrates again while he walks down the train platform, weaving between clusters of people carrying wide blooms of shopping bags. A message from Jean.

_Hey, can I talk to you about something?_

**

"I don't think you need to worry," Nanaba says, her fingertips pressed gently to Armin's knee. "You may have just strained it a little." From her accent, Armin assumes she must have grown up speaking French. "It will probably be fine. But I think you should take a day to rest it. What do you think, Levi?"

Levi skates to the edge of the ice and looks over the low wall. "You are not having rehearsal tonight?"

"Uh...tomorrow night. But tonight we're just running the show a couple times to do photos."

Levi nods. "Ok. You finish this practice this afternoon and skate on it tonight, but tomorrow, you will rest it. Thursday, Nanka, you will look at it again."

She nods. Nanaba stands nearly a head taller than Levi. It makes Armin smile. He tries not to smile too widely.

The prickling and soreness in his knee irritate him, but he feels relieved to have an official excuse to go to dinner at the Jaegers'. He would never fake the pain, not when he knows a worse injury could be right around the corner. But he relishes the timing. He glances at the clock. Half an hour until Eren's game.

**

Armin doesn't initially see Eren when he walks into the busy south rink. But he does see the distressingly attractive blonde coach leaning menacingly over a player in the penalty box. The bleachers are filled with people in forest green Trost sweatshirts. Armin spots Annie's white sweatshirt and Mikasa's red scarf in the front row on the other side of the rink. Marco stands next to them, cheering, wearing a t-shirt with an ink drawing of a panda on it. Marco had bought one for himself and one for Armin at a zoo in China. But he had bought them the same size, and so while Armin's looks reasonable, Marco's is remarkably tight.

"Eren. Get yourself together. What are you trying to achieve playing like this." Erwin stands over Eren who stares glumly across the ice. There are accidental fouls, and then, there are swipes of spite. "I need you to think as fast as you move, ok? Because when you do this—look, I'm out my best forward. Ok? Don't do this to your teammates."

Armin walks to the other side of the rink. He watches Franz block a shot, and cheering erupts from the green-clad spectators. But Armin expected to see Bert tending the goal. He looks over and spots Nanaba's blonde head. Bert grimaces in pain on the bench next to her.

Erwin is exasperated with Eren, but he'd rather have players who are too aggressive than players who aren't fast enough. He's decided to pick his battles. He knows Eren's upset about Bert's injury and is trying to compensate. And Eren knows Erwin knows.

Marco gives Armin a hug and lifts him a few inches off the floor. When Marco sets him back down, he realizes the player in the box is Eren. Eren gets back onto the ice and faces off with a taller boy who seems to recoil slightly at his presence.

Holy shit, Armin realizes. Eren is fast. "I don't know jack shit about hockey, but I'm impressed," Armin says to Mikasa. She just nods and smiles.

"Come on Jaeger!" Mikasa shouts. A few more shouts of "Jaeger! Jaeger!" burst from the bleachers. Armin notices the tall man with a dark ponytail next to Mikasa, also shouting excitedly. From the contour of his profile, he must be Eren's father, Armin thinks.

Armin flinches when a pair of players slams into the plexiglass wall, making it ripple unnervingly.

"This is so exciting," Marco beams.

"Marco, do you even know what's going on?" Armin asks him.

"Not really," he says. "You know, there is something missing. They should have a half-time show. Like the Americans have for their football."

"You mean cheerleading for hockey," Armin says.

"Yes! That would be so great, no?"

"Only you would think of that," Armin says. You just want to get out there and show off, he thinks. Across the way, he notices Levi and the Bulgarians standing next to Erwin and Mike, fixated on the game, pointing and talking. He supposes hockey would have been a standard part of a Soviet upbringing, but he isn't sure. He watches Eren's feet. No choreography, only improv. Pure reaction. It is exciting, he thinks. Eren snarls like a demon. He fakes a shot, then whips the puck into the top corner of the net. Armin feels a little swell of pride.

Marco turns to him and puts his arm around his shoulder, a gesture Jean notices from the bench. "You seem better."

"Yeah," Armin says. "Thanks." He feels a twinge of guilt for talking about Marco earlier.

Jean steps back onto the ice and Marco claps his hands. "I am so proud of Jean. Watch him, he is so good."

Armin rolls his eyes. You literally just said you don't follow the game, he thinks. "If you say he's 'the best,' I'm gonna' smack you," Armin says half-jokingly. Luckily, Marco finds it funny.

"This is why I am here, Armin! I have to make my English better!" Marco laughs. "Don't worry, I will get some better words." He winks.

"That reminds me," Armin says in a lower voice, his eyes straining to follow the movement on the ice. "I think...you need to cool it a little with Jean." He instantly regrets saying it. Asking Marco to cool off is like asking water not to be wet.

Marco's whole demeanor softens. "Something is wrong?"

Armin sighs. "I talked to him a little bit today." Marco looks worried, an expression Armin isn't used to seeing. "He's—well, um...you just...he likes you, ok? That's not the issue—" Marco looks confused. "You just...text him a lot. And...it's kind of stressing him out."

Marco looks at the ice. "Why did he talk to you and not me?"

Armin slips his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "I don't know, probably because he wants you to like him? And he doesn't know how to tell you? Marco, I don't know. He was just...stressed out about it."

"But he always answers me right away. I don't understand. I thought he wants to talk to me."

"No, he does," Armin insists. "I think it just makes him anxious."

"Why is he anxious?"

"Marco, I'm not a mind reader," Armin sighs. He watches two players collide and fall; his body recoils from the imagined, empathetic impact.

Marco picks up on Armin's frustration. "So he is like you then," Marco says.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he is like one of those people. You tell them they are great, and they never believe you. They are always afraid of something, or they are afraid they are bad, and there is nothing bad about them," he says guilelessly, turning to Armin.

Armin looks at the floor. "You say everyone's great," he says with embarrassment at Marco's succinct, accented description of his own anxiety.

"No I don't," Marco says simply. "If something is not great, then I just don't talk about it. I think lots of things are bad." He shrugs. "I talk about what I like. It makes me happier."

I wish my life could be as simple as that, Armin thinks. But Marco has a point; Armin's barely heard him say a negative word.

Marco puts his hand on Armin's shoulder. "Well I think you are great. I wish you believed me, but I don't care. I am just going to keep telling you!" He kisses Armin's head.

Armin crosses his arms and looks at the floor. "Ok, you know if it were that easy, I would just...believe you."

Marco smiles at him. "I do not understand you at all. But it's ok. You are still great."

Armin chuckles, then sighs. Another player cross checks Eren, who pushes himself up off the ice immediately. It makes Armin cringe. But with Eren's ruthless style of playing, Armin's hardly surprised.

Marco squints. "What do you think I should say to Jean? I don't want to make him feel bad, you know. I want him to be happy."

"Just tell him that," Armin says. It's a generous thing to say, he thinks. Marco's words are so simple, but they strike Armin in the gut. He looks at Eren, who gestures furiously across the ice at another player, all cartoonish rage. I want to make you happy, Armin thinks; I want you to be happy...but with me. He feels selfish. "So...Yeah. We are alike, I think. Me and Jean. Imagine that someone like Jean...is like someone who sees ghosts. You can't see them...so you don't understand why they're afraid all the time. And they can't not see them. They're always there. Even if you know they're not real," Armin's throat starts to go dry, "They still sneak up on you. So you're just...on edge. You're just always nervous."

Marco looks at him with an expression of genuine sorrow. "That must be terrible."

It is, Armin thinks. The thought of taking his grandfather's pills terrifies him to the point of lying frequently about how he feels, but he still feels desperate to exorcise his own mind.

"What are your ghosts?" Marco asks innocently.

Armin's quiet for a moment amidst the yelling crowd. "Maybe we'll talk about it later."

"Ok," Marco says with a grin. "Tell me about something great."

Armin shakes his head. "Well...I've been talking to Eren a lot."

Marco's eyes widen with excitement. "Oh my god, he is so pretty. Almost as pretty as Jean."

Armin's not sure whether to feel panicked or relieved.

**

The clock runs to zero and the Trost Titans defeat the Crystal Lake Warriors by a single goal. Armin waits with the crowd for the players to leave the ice. He hangs back and lets the others talk to Eren first, nervous about how late it's getting. He had hoped to see Eren after the game, but the procession of greetings and praise is taking frustratingly long.

"Hey," Eren says, not surprised, just delighted. He clutches his helmet to his side. His hair is drenched with sweat, clinging to his face. Armin immediately thinks of his shower fantasy.

"Hey," he says, a little dumbfounded at Eren's transformation from a vicious hell-raiser during the game to the beaming, bright-eyed boy in front of him, as if the helmet were some sort of ceremonial mask, endowing the wearer with fearsome powers. They look at each other for a second.

"I'm really gross," Eren says, wanting a hug and regretting it.

"Uh...you should be," Armin says.

Eren glances around the room. Armin steps closer to him, rests his hand lightly on Eren's jaw, and gives him a discreet kiss.

"Are you gonna' be here later?" Eren asks. He tries not to sound desperate, but Armin detects the urgency in his voice.

"I can't. We're doing photos at rehearsal tonight. So I have to be there earlier."

"Oh." Eren feels disappointed and excited at the same time. "Send me some?" His mischievous grin is back.

"Sure. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Of course," Eren says. A little drop of sweat falls from a lock of his hair.

Armin looks around and kisses Eren again, convinced no one is looking. Eren disappears into the locker room. Armin feels proud of his discretion until he notices Levi looking at him with a completely unreadable expression. He tries to conceal himself in the crowd making its way toward the parking lot. As soon as he sits down in his grandfather's car, he notices movement in the rearview mirror. He sees Levi climb into the blonde coach's pickup truck.

**

Eren stares dejectedly at a diagram of a golgi body when his phone dings. A text from Armin Arlert. A photo. Eren feels his heart rate pick up.

 _Hey look I'm turning into a prince_ , Armin writes. Eren opens the photo, a selfie. Armin wears a red wool jacket with a high collar. Gold cords twist around rows of round gold buttons and form elaborate knotwork at the sleeves. He wears no shirt underneath.

Eren's eyes widen. Holy shit, he thinks. _You look amazing_ , he types back.

Alone for a moment in the dressing room, Armin smiles. He believes it.


	12. Chapter 12

Eren stares wide-eyed at his phone. Armin looks like a little model, he thinks. Eren blinks slowly a few times. Suddenly he needs to take off his sweatshirt. He wishes Armin could have stayed later after the game. But of all the reasons he could have to leave early, Eren can accept this one. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

Armin smirks in the mirror. Well, you made it this far, he thinks, observing himself; you look like a lot of things, but an emaciated child isn't one of them. He slides off the jacket, heavy with embroidery, and hangs it back up. He reaches for the garment bag with his simpler costume for his first scene as Herr Drosselmeyer's nephew.

 _Damn_ , Eren writes.  
_You turned into royalty and all I did was turn back into a human_

 _Hey_ , Armin replies, _we all have our alter egos_  
_I mean yeah you were like a terrifying animal_  
_But like_  
_a cute terrifying animal_  
_Like a wolf cub or something_

 _Ok, I'm relived_ , Eren says. He nods and grins. Yeah, I could be a wolf, he thinks.

_Like I want to take it home, but I probably shouldn't._

Eren leans back into the couch, wondering how facetious Armin is being. _Oh god_ , he types, I _'m going to need you to warn me when you send a photo_  
_Because I'm not going to be able to get anything done tonight._

Armin grins wickedly. He contemplates sending Eren another one, this time with no shirt at all. No, he thinks; make him wait. It's more fun this way. The handful of other men in the show walk into the dressing room, chatting. Armin feels relieved he didn't get caught in the middle of another little photoshoot. It had taken him a dozen tries to get the lighting just right, the angle of the open jacket just so, his hair falling just the way he wanted.

He leans against the wall and wonders why being liked means more than any medal he's ever won. Or any show he's ever been cast in. It doesn't mean more, he realizes; but in the moment, it feels that way. Do I really do all this so some guy can tell me I look hot in a photo? Armin wonders. He didn't even say it, just implied it. Yet it makes Armin feel suddenly real, as if he's gone from transparent to opaque. He imagines Marco laughing at him and seeing no problem: why not have it all? The artistry and the attention? He imagines Levi looking severe, waxing philosophical about the fleeting nature of life and how cold and cruel the world is, and we all need beauty, but we must not let it distract us from making our art in the first place. Yeah, Armin thinks; that's exactly what Levi would say. But surely even Levi must enjoy being admired. He has his own car. The list of his reasons to get into Eren's coach's seems awfully short.

 _I didn't mean to distract you_ , Armin types. _That's a lie_ , he adds after a few seconds.

 _Uh...do you think you don't already?_ Eren laughs dryly as Mikasa walks into the living room with a textbook and a mug of tea.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

Eren freezes. "Memes," he says flatly.

"Oh." Mikasa immediately loses interest. She sinks down into the overstuffed armchair on the other side of the room.

 _Sorry_ , Armin types.

 _oh my god_  
_no_  
_don't apologize_ , Eren hashes out, trying to constrain his smile.  
_I'm going to fail biology_  
_but I have an A in online stalking_

Armin can't lie to himself. He relishes the attention. In his world, attention means two possibilities: love or danger. From a safe distance, in front of a mass of excited spectators, he can soak the attention up. Anywhere else, he avoids drawing too much attention to himself. To be seen up close, off the ice, is something he both fears and craves.

 _Well, you know_ , Armin types.  
_I could tutor you in that too_  
_By which I just mean_  
_also guilty_

Now it's Eren who feels a little rush. Why is this happening, he thinks. Why is being liked better than Christmas, my birthday, and the last day of school all rolled up into one? Rose clambers up onto the couch and sinks her head in Eren's very warm lap.

 _I better get going soon_ , Armin says.

 _Ok, go break a leg_  
_NO_  
_break everything_  
_come back in a body cast_ , Eren writes.

_Great. Then you can get injured playing hockey and we can have wheelchair races._

_You know what I'm more worried about?_

_What?_ Armin glances at the clock.

_Going blind_  
_It's gonna be your fault._

Armin is flattered, but with caution. _You'll have to take up the piano. Ok, I have to go. I'll talk to you soon!_

Eren buries his face in Rose's fur to conceal his grin. When he can manage his face again, he scratches the dog's ears, gathers up his books, and goes upstairs to take a long shower.

**

Armin washes the makeup off of his face. His phone buzzes again on the dressing room counter. A text from Elin Arlert, his cousin on his dad's side, just home from her first semester of college. _Hey you! How's Chi-town?_

 _Good_ , he types, smiling. _Pretty and cold_. Of all of his cousins, he got along with Elin the best.

 _Sounds like you_ , she writes.

 _Thanks?? I guess? How are you?_ He knows she's joking, but he panics for a second. Am I really that stand-offish? Or is that another ghost?

_SO bored. I miss school. Are you coming home for Christmas? I wanna see you!_

_No, my folks are coming here_ , Armin types. He sets the phone down and pulls his shirt and jacket back on. He's not jealous of the ensemble, with their elaborate suite of costume changes. He is jealous of the volume of sequins and the profusion of crystals. But he has enough shine to his own costumes to content him.

 _Awwww_ , Elin writes. There was a magic to Elin's house as a kid: a place where he could play dress-up. Elin always dressed up. But she would be a prince, too. Or a pirate. Or a knight. When they got older they talked about feeling like they had no place. Everything was either/or. They wanted both/and. Dolls and dinosaurs. Tea parties and Transformers. Armin never felt like a girl. But he did find he felt more like himself around them, whether they acted traditionally 'girly' or not.

 _Come to Chicago! How long are you on break?_ Armin asks.

 _TOO LONG_ , is the response. _Ok dude I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna send you my train tickets_.

 _DO IT_ , Armin writes with a huge smile on his face. He gathers up the rest of his belongings and walks out into the hall to hug Ilse and Daniela good night.

Armin remembers the conversation he had with Elin before he left for China. There's a place for you, she had said: in front of hundreds of people who would never have the guts to be you.

It had given Armin a shot of confidence. But he secretly considered his China contract to be the closest he'd ever get to running away and joining the circus. Sure, it would look good on a resume. And maybe even be fun. But is this why you skate? He asks himself. To run away?

What about other places, he wonders. Not in front of people under bright lights, but next to them, in the dark. Alone with them.

**

Eren flops down on his bed and looks at his phone.

 _Daniela Brzenska was with Armin Arlert and Michael Soni at Navy Pier_. ' _What even is this show anymore. idek. #pestcontrol_ ,' the caption reads. Armin stands across from another young man; they make goofy expressions and point surprisingly realistic-looking swords at each other. They hold the Nutcracker and Rat King masks at their sides like fencing helmets. Eren slaps the phone down on the mattress. Stop being so cute, he thinks. It's unbearable. He scrolls through a few other photos Armin's tagged in.

Clearly the production company had spared no expense on the costumes Eren had imagined stripping off of Armin. Armin looks regal, and the other skaters glitter like jewels. Occasionally Eren sees a girl so striking, he almost understands why his friends are so obsessed with them. Daniela, he thinks, is one of them. Under the colorful lights, even in the quick candids from phone cameras, she and Armin look ethereal and strangely ageless.

Tomorrow night, Eren realizes; that's when I get to see him again. He walks downstairs to get a glass of water and scans each room for anything incriminating. There's the photo of him and Mikasa in a bathtub at three years old, but it's more funny than embarrassing. Mikasa is trying to eat soap. In the photo that follows, she discovers it's not a good idea. That one's more embarrassing for Mikasa, Eren decides. There's the obligatory school photos. Those are never good. How could his parents have thought that bowl cut was a good idea? But that was outside my control, he thinks. And maybe even a little bit endearing. So many more photos. So many photos of Eren in hockey jerseys of various colors. Eren finds himself glad to be cooking. He doesn't want Armin to think playing hockey is the only thing he can do.

The image of Armin in the open jacket burns in Eren's eyes as he tries to fall asleep. He knows there are literally infinite pictures of naked men on the internet. Even his Facebook feed is filled with shirtless beach and vacation pictures from everyone he knows from hockey camp, some of them of ambiguous persuasions, some of them who nearly got kicked out of hockey camp for confirming those persuasions. But none of the photos, even of the guys Eren had experimented with, had impacted him like this. Sure, some of them were hot. But they weren't maddening. Was it because Armin sent the photo only to him? Or specifically because it's of Armin?

Eren doesn't want images. He wants a person. No arrangement of pixels can conjure the electricity of touching the boy he wants. He rolls over and feels mildly disgusted with himself. I played my hardest game in recent memory and rubbed one out in the shower, I ought to be exhausted, he thinks. He is exhausted. Just distracted.

Rose whines and tries to nose the door open. Eren gets up and lets her in. She jumps up onto the bed. Eren looks at her straight in the face. "Did Mikasa kick you out?"

The dog whimpers anxiously. She lies down on the pillow next to Eren. Eren wraps an arm around her.

"Why can't I sleep, Rose?" Eren groans.

The dog, not understanding the exact meaning of Eren's words, matches his tone, grumbling.

"I know," Eren says into the pillow. He rolls over on his back and the dog lays her head on his chest. Eren runs his hand through her fur. "You ever had a crush, Rose?"

The dog looks at him and whimpers.

"You like that German Shepherd who lives down the street?"

She grumbles.

"Don't ever have a crush, Rose. It's the worst."

**

The alarm rings cruelly the next morning. Carla stands in the door frame with her arms crossed.

"I'm awake. I'm awake," Eren groans, hitting the snooze button for the fifth time. He hoists himself out of bed and looks at the time. 6:45. He won't see Armin at the rink, and the thought drains him of motivation. Twelve more hours, Eren thinks. He glances around his newly tidied room and takes a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting so fluffy, even I almost can't stand it. I'm afraid my story is creeping along at a snail's pace, so, thanks for staying with me and reading this far! Stay tuned for when Eren and Armin actually get to be alone together!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some brief mentions of blood.

Eren fights to focus on the road. A puppet theater of worst case scenarios plays in his mind. The ways he could fuck up the food. Dumb things he might say. Being too forward. Not being forward enough.

Eren knows he's being ridiculous. He knows Armin likes him. It doesn't matter. What if he thinks I'm boring? Eren wonders. Or too intense? What if I freak him out? What if it all goes perfectly...up until the very last second?

"Why am I like this?" Eren says to the otherwise empty car.

The mostly empty rink feels dull and lifeless. Eren notices the constant hum of the coils in the silence. Levi stands in the atrium, looking at his phone. Eren's only ever seen him in his skates. In his black boots, he's surprisingly short, and yet no less imposing. He reminds Eren of Annie in that regard.

"Ehren. You look like someone has died," Levi remarks, glancing up from the little screen.

Eren freezes. Does he know? Does it matter?

"You should be heppy after your victory last night," Levi says.

Eren hears Levi's knuckles crack through his leather glove as he makes a fist to punctuate the word 'victory.' He looks around. Sure, Eren thinks, but...which one? Talking to Levi always throws him off. Levi's presence is unmistakably intimidating, but Eren can never tell whether it's intentionally so. "We only won by one point."

"Yes...exectly," Levi says. "That is why it matters that you won. Because you had to fight for it."

Eren grins awkwardly. "Yeah...we were kinda hoping to win by more than that."

Levi squints. "But it is no fun if you win so easily."

"Um...no, it's...still pretty fun," Eren admits.

"It is amusing. But it is not compelling," Levi says, looking off into the distance. His philosophizing makes Eren think of Erwin. But of all the things Erwin has told Eren to do, 'be more compelling' isn't one of them. To Erwin's credit, for all his grandiose remarks, he's the first to insist: it's just a game. Levi seems to make no such distinction. He turns slowly back to Eren, steely eyes ablaze. "You are a talented athlete, Eren. You should know the value of a good opponent."

Eren feels his insides turn to mush. He wonders if Levi talks to Mikasa like this.

"It keeps you sharp," Levi adds. "On your toes, as they say." A faint flicker of a grin appears on Levi's face.

Eren just looks at him. I guess you would know a lot about being on your toes, he thinks. Mikasa appears at the end of the hall and waves.

"What's gotten into you?" she asks as they push open the heavy glass door.

"Nothing," Eren mutters.

"Oh, come on." Mikasa opens the back hatch of the car and throws in her bag. Eren says nothing. "Do you want me to drive?" she asks.

Eren hands her the keys and climbs in the passenger seat. He draws his knees to his chest and sulks.

"Eren, what is the matter with you?" Mikasa laughs, turning out of the parking lot.

"Why did you invite him over?" He groans. He peers mournfully over his knees.

She starts to chuckle. Then she begins to laugh out loud. She collects herself as they reach a red light. She turns to him with a wicked look. "Because you'd never have the guts to do it on your own."

Eren goes rigid. He turns to her, glaring.

"Ehren," she says, doing her best impression of Levi, which makes them both laugh, "sometimes in life, you will want something. And to get it, you must get out of your 'comfort zone,' as they say."

"Fine," he sneers. "Challenge accepted."

Mikasa smiles as the light turns green.

**

The smell of chlorine overwhelms Armin as he pushes open the door to the pool. He's gotten so used to the smell of freon from the rink.

"I'm going to the health club," his grandfather announced after breakfast. "You wanna' come with?"

The lanes of the pool are mostly full. But the diving well is empty. Armin slides off his blue flip-flops and climbs the ladder to the high dive. The next best thing to being on ice is being in the water, and the best way to get into the water is falling through the air. His grandmother taught him how to skate, but it was his grandfather who taught him how to swim, and later, dive.

Mike towels off his face and looks through the weight room window into the pool below. "Huh. Looks like Levi's new student."

"Yeah, it does," Erwin says, looking at the blonde figure standing thirty feet above the water. "Levi seems happy with him," Erwin remarks.

Mike laughs loud enough that a few people turn around.

"What?" Erwin asks.

"The only thing I've ever seen Levi happy about is you," Mike says.

Erwin shakes his head.

The natatorium is quiet except for the echoing sound of the water. Armin walks to the end of the flexible board and jumps. He welcomes the rush of falling head first, the sudden surge of adrenaline. He pierces the surface of the water like an arrow, nearly silent. The cold water sends a wave of free heat through his body. He floats up slowly from the bottom of the deep well, not kicking to preserve his knee, and flings his hair out of his face. He runs his fingers through it and climbs up the slick metal ladder to the pool's edge.

Again. The fast-moving air is cold against his now-wet skin, and the water feels warm in comparison. He can nearly hear his heartbeat underwater as he rises to the surface again. Perhaps, he thinks, if he can drain himself of adrenaline early on, he'll be less nervous when he sees Eren in the evening. He climbs leisurely back up the long ladder, and lets himself fall, again, and again.

**

Armin considers sending Eren another photo, but the sign on the wall reads _No phone use permitted in locker rooms_. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way to the sauna, a towel wrapped around his waist. Silvery strings of wet hair frame his face. In the garish fluorescent lights, he feels like a cadaver, drained of color, his skin a noxious pale gray, with the occasional vein striking through it like marble. He grimaces at his reflection. Some other time, he decides.

He lays on a towel over the warm wood, little trails of perspiration creeping down his sides. He takes a deep breath. He's always found swimming profoundly relaxing. Now he lets himself melt into the heat. The little room is silent except for the creaky heating element and the sighs of the other men lying on the long ledges. The hot air is sharp with the smell of cedar.

Armin's serenity is punctured when the door opens. Two men sit down, talking quietly in heavy accents. Armin tries to pick out the nuances. Canada, he thinks, or maybe Minnesota.

"You figured out your Christmas plans?" Erwin asks. He stretches his arm along the wooden stair behind him and takes a sip from a plastic cup of water.

"Yeah," Mike says, sitting down with a little groan. "We're going to be with Nan's folks in Montréal over Christmas and then in Toronto for New Year's."

Armin peels open his eyes. From the edge of his vision, he recognizes Eren's coaches. He shuts his eyes again and wishes he were invisible. Or a cadaver after all, just lying there, minding its own business. He's never done a search for 'Viking porn,' but he imagines the first result would look quite a bit like the enormously tall, bearded man sitting next to the clean-cut blonde, both men obviously trainers, like figures from his anatomy textbook. Armin remembered that Nanaba's husband was also a trainer. He just didn't realize Mike worked at this particular gym.

"You guys ever decide what you're doing?" Mike asks Erwin.

Erwin sighs. "We might stay here. I don't know yet."

"Levi's not going back to Brooklyn?"

So that confirms it, then, Armin thinks; Levi is dating Eren's coach. He'd feel more guilty about eavesdropping if they weren't all in a clearly public place. An older man Armin doesn't recognize ladles water onto the artificial coals and a cloud of steam fills the room.

"No, not this year," Erwin says. "Isabel got her visa situation straightened out. She's going back to Smolensk."

Armin remembered Levi didn't have any family in Chicago. From what he gathered, it seemed like Levi didn't have any family at all.

Mike chuckles softly. "So you're not gonna' bring him with you to St. Paul."

Erwin groans and takes a sip of water. "They've been hounding me to bring somebody home," he says. Then he laughs under his breath.

"Levi's not exactly what they had in mind," Mike infers with a grin.

"When they say 'somebody,' they mean Marie," Erwin says with a twinge of resignation. "I'm not gonna' put Levi through it."

Armin struggles to imagine his dry, surly coach surrounded by Erwin's presumably tall, blonde family. But he doesn't struggle to imagine Levi alone with Erwin. He tries to push the thought out of his mind. It doesn't work.

"It's been, what, two years now?" Mike asks. The two men drip with perspiration. "Don't you think you ought to introduce them eventually?"

Erwin shrugs. "In stages. Maybe when they're here in the spring."

Armin, upon meeting Levi in person, decided it would make life with his new coach much easier if he made a pact with himself not to let his mind go there, not to take off Levi's metaphorical thick black coat. Whenever curiosity tempted him, he sought a quick distraction: a memory of messing around in a hotel room with Marco, or a fantasy of the stern looking blonde coach he sometimes spotted through the rink windows. But now that coach sits shirtless across from him, two years into a relationship with Levi. A phantom Levi enters the room, his naked body dense and graceful, like a panther's. He straddles Erwin and runs a finger beneath Erwin's chin.

Oh for fuck's sake, Armin thinks. He looks at the clock. It's been fifteen minutes; he should get out of the sauna anyways. He lets his hair hang in his face, in the childish hope that if he can't see the two coaches, they won't recognize him. He creeps out as discreetly as possible before the towel around his waist begins to tent too obviously.

He runs a cool shower. Think of something else, he tells himself. Eren. Yes. That's better.

But now more images flood his mind as the water pulls the heat from his skin. Eren and his coaches. Eren made too many fouls. Too many trips to the penalty box. How will they punish him?

Armin leans against the tile wall, resting his head against his forearm, his other hand around his cock.

Poor Eren. Eren has to suck Levi off while The Viking and Captain America watch. Armin pumps his shaft furiously, his hand slick with conditioner. Phantom Levi grips a handful of Eren's slightly-too-long hair and pushes himself deeper into Eren's throat. The two tall men tower over them. Waiting their turn.

The sound of the showers mercifully drowns out the sound of Armin's rapid, shallow breathing. He washes himself off and slides down the tile wall, soaking in the momentary delirium. Between the pool, the sauna, and the hormones pouring through his body, he sits in the water in a daze, his wits slow to return.

Armin's not sure which proclivity makes him more ashamed: the desire to watch, or to be watched. 'But they are just ghosts,' Marco would say. Marco has no problems describing his fantasies in detail, to the point where Armin has had to ask him to stop.

He towels off and pulls his clothes back on. In the mirror across from him, he spots the two shirtless coaches again. I'm going to hell on a full scholarship, he thinks.

**

Eren stands in the kitchen with his hands on his hips. The ingredients lay in neat rows. Zucchini. Squash. Eggplant. Cucumbers. All the phallic vegetables, he thinks, snickering. He reaches for a knife and slings the blade across the sharpener. The sound makes Rose whine in protest, her head between her paws. She's too well-trained to bark. Then the sound of Eren chopping vegetables makes her ears prick up. She saunters over for a treat.

"Rose, go away, these aren't for you," Eren mutters, trying to make the pieces as consistent and precise as he can. He sets a pot of water on the stove and lights it. The dog looks at him and groans as he walks back to the chopping block. She pokes her nose into the back of his knee.

"Fuck!" Eren screams, clutching his hand as a little red trail streams down his wrist. He drops the knife and rushes to the sink. The stream of water turns pink.

"Eren? Honey, are you ok?" Carla asks from the dining room where she sits at her laptop.

Eren grits his teeth. "It just stings—"

"Let me look at it." Carla grabs his hand. A bright gash in Eren's finger narrowly misses an artery; deep enough to hurt, but not to require stitches. "Put pressure on it, it'll close up," she says decisively, now in full-on mother-wolf mode. "I'll get you the first aid kit."

Eren takes a deep breath, squeezing his hand. Once the shock wears off, the frustration sets in. Shit, he thinks; I told Armin I could cook, and now I'm going to have this big fucking bandage on my hand. He wipes his eyes on his sleeve before Carla walks back into the room.

**

Armin sets his books down on the dining room table. His eyes sting behind his glasses, irritated from the chlorine. He looks at himself in the mirror. If he puts his contacts back in, he'll look like he's been hot-boxing in the car. He sighs. He supposes glasses are better than bloodshot eyes. Great, he tells himself; now you've gone from being the prince to being the prince's accountant. He wears his favorite gray jeans with a blue cashmere cardigan. His narrow rectangular glasses have thin silver frames. Might as well let Eren see you in your true form, he thinks with a shrug.

**

"Fullerton is next. Doors open on the right at Fullerton," the recorded voice says. The train emerges from underground into a tranquil neighborhood. Street lights glint through the snow-covered trees. The dark branches all bear parallel stripes of white. A few flakes blow erratically outside the train windows.

Armin shoves the book of Howard Zinn essays back into his bag. A drawing of a bird skeleton splays across the canvas; splotchy calligraphy announces the name of a natural history museum in China. Armin feels a little affected carrying it, but he hadn't wanted to show up with his huge backpack.

A blast of cold air fills the train car as the doors open. Armin walks down the crowded stairs to the sidewalk below, the cement mercifully encrusted with salt. Christmas trees glow in every window of the row of stately brownstones, some accompanied by flickering menorahs. An electronic reindeer raises and lowers its head on a lawn across the street. The huge lamps overhead bathe everything in gold, and Armin has the impression of being in a different city all together.

He didn't have to take the train. His grandfather insisted that he didn't need the car. But now Armin needs a ride home, which he hopes will prolong his time with Eren.

"Whoa," Annie says, slipping out of her boots, hanging her coat on a hook. "It smells amazing in here."

Eren's too distracted by his hand to register the compliment. He delicately removes the cartoonish glob of gauze and studies the skin beneath it with a mixture of disgust and relief. He reaches for a smaller piece of gauze and tapes it on. Still embarrassing, but better.

Armin walks up to a house and squints at a plaque on the mailbox. _Jaeger & Sadik_, it reads. He walks up the steps.

The doorbell rings. Eren holds his breath. Annie turns to open it. From the kitchen, he hears her greet Armin excitedly. She's never that excited about anything, Eren thinks. Mikasa trots down the stairs to the foyer; Eren listens. Armin shakes the snow off of his dark wool coat and hangs it up.

"Where's Eren?" Annie asks.

He steps out tentatively into the hall and stands still. He hasn't seen Armin in anything besides his skating clothes. Suddenly, he realizes, this is a good thing. If he had seen Armin on the street, or anywhere but the rink, he would have been too shy to talk to him, and his own cowardice would have infuriated him. Armin's blue sweater and brown leather shoes are probably nicer than anything Eren owns; not for lack of means, but for lack of ever trying. Eren wishes he'd put on something nicer, silently praying to keep the growing pit stains on his black t-shirt at bay.

"Hey you." Annie gives Eren a quick hug. "I'm gonna get some water," she says to Mikasa. The girls look at each other and strategically leave the boys in the foyer.

"Hey," Armin says shyly.

"Hey." Eren looks at him for a moment and smiles awkwardly. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Oh. Yeah. Sometimes. Just...not when I skate," Armin says, glancing at the floor. Well obviously, he thinks to himself, immediately regretting his words.

They're adorable, Eren thinks. Everything about Armin is adorable; the glasses are just icing on the cake. As if he needed to look any more refined. "I really like them on you," Eren says sheepishly.

Armin lights up at the compliment. "Thanks."

The boys look at each other for a second, helpless to stop smiling. Eren reaches out and clutches Armin to him, eliciting a little laugh.

"Thanks for having me over," Armin says, pulling himself closer.

Eren stops himself from shouting 'Are you kidding?' "Of course," he says instead. "I'm glad you could make it," he half-whispers. He brushes a strand of Armin's hair out of his face and kisses him. A euphoric swell spreads through his body. Armin presses himself shamelessly into Eren, his face still faintly cool from the air outside. Eren feels an urge to warm him up.

Armin draws back slightly. "What happened to your hand?" he asks. Eren is flattered by the concern in his voice. Armin noticed the patch of gauze as Eren ran his hand slowly down his back.

"Oh, that," Eren mutters. "The dog got excited while I was cooking—"

"She bit you?" Armin's eyes widen.

"No! No, she just startled me..." Eren clarifies, embarrassed.

"Oh. Are you ok?" Armin catches himself. "Never mind."

"What?" Eren asks, letting his hands rest on Armin's hips.

Armin smiles. "What's a mere cut to _El Diente_?"

"Oh god, not you too," Eren rests his head on Armin's shoulder.

Armin laughs. "Sorry. I won't call you that." He runs his hand through Eren's hair.

"It's ok if _you_ say it," Eren says, looking back up, grinning.

"I'll have to come up with a different nickname for you." Armin tilts his head slightly, with a curious smile that makes Eren want to melt.

Grisha opens the front door again with Rose on her leash, back from a last-minute walk. The boys step apart briskly.

"Hi Rose!" Eren kneels down and the dog licks his face while Grisha takes off his coat and shakes Armin's hand. The loaded rack of hooks threatens to slip off the wall. Rose yelps excitedly at Eren. Then she sees Armin. She freezes. She doesn't growl. She doesn't bark, or bare her teeth. She just stares.

Eren pats her head. "What's the matter with you, girl?"

The dog glares at Armin, making no noise, only watching. She walks closely at Eren's side as they enter the kitchen, not taking her creepy light eyes off of Armin. Armin gives a little uneasy laugh.

"Oh...sorry, do you not like dogs?" Eren asks, concerned at the husky's unusual behavior. "I mean, we can, um, put her on the porch—"

"Oh. No, I like dogs just fine," Armin says hastily.

The dog continues to stare. She watches Armin shake Carla's hand. She watches him admire the food and serve his plate. She watches him sit down. She sits in the corner of the dining room, staring.

Armin looks skeptically at Eren. "Why...is she doing that?" He asks as Eren sits down.

Mikasa laughs as she sets her plate on the table.

"What?" Armin asks.

She looks at the dog, then back at Armin. "I think she's jealous of you."

**


	14. Chapter 14

The dog continues to stare. Every few moments, Armin finds himself making uneasy eye contact with her. His mouth feels dry.

"Wait, seriously?" Annie's eyes widen. "Lena Jansen was your grandmother?!"

"Yeah," Armin admits sheepishly, looking at his plate.

"Oh my god," Mikasa says. "Now that you mention it, you really do look like her." Mikasa thinks back to the black and white images she's seen of the Danish skating champion, a handful of grainy restored videos. Armin's face flushes.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Annie asks.

"Just a...coattails kind of thing, I guess."

Eren feels an urge to wrap an arm around Armin protectively. He doesn't. His bandaged hand lies awkwardly on his knee. If they weren't sitting at a table with Eren's parents, Armin would think he was dropping a hint about wanting him to hold it. Their chairs sit conspicuously close together, close enough for Armin to sense the heat from Eren's body.

"I'm gonna' get some more food, you guys want anything?" Eren gets up. Despite eating as delicately as possible, not wanting to shovel his food down his throat in Armin's presence, he's still the first one with an empty plate.

"No thanks, honey," Carla says. The others shake their heads. Armin's plate is still mostly full. Eren hopes it's because he's spent most of the meal answering his family's non-stop suite of questions. At least he seems to be having fun. Please be having fun, Eren thinks. He can't recall any other meal he's ever sat through with such fixation on another person's feelings, trying to analyze without staring. Eren sees Armin skewer a stuffed grape leaf with his fork as he turns into the kitchen and feels a little wave of relief. The dog follows Eren out of the room.

Eren walks back in with a steaming heap of eggplant stew spilling over a mountain of fluffy rice. Rose sits down directly behind Armin's chair.

Mikasa laughs. "Jesus, Eren. You eat enough for three people."

"Well, honey, that happens when you're athletes," Carla says amusedly. "Besides, you eat enough for two."

Mikasa glares at her mother. Armin reaches discreetly for another cucumber slice covered in yogurt. How white can you possibly get, Arlert, he says to himself, his mouth burning with the spices from the food.

"So. What do you think of Eren's cooking?" Annie asks.

"It's...great," Armin says. "Yeah. Really good. Got a bit of a kick to it though," he says with a weak laugh, his eyes watery. It is good, he thinks. Everything but the eggplant, which he can't bring himself to admit is barely edible. Is it just me? He wonders. The others all seem perfectly satisfied. "By the way," he turns to Eren. "Where's the bathroom?"

Eren points him to it. The girls look at each other, then at Eren. Their food is not particularly spicy. Eren hears the bathroom door click shut and reaches over to take a bite of Armin's food. He spits it into his napkin.

"Honey? What's wrong?" Carla asks, alarmed.

"I don't know," Eren mutters. "That dish is not supposed to taste like that."

Annie looks skeptical and takes a bite off Armin's plate herself. She coughs and her eyes tear up. "Eren, what did you do?" She downs the rest of her glass of water and reaches for a cucumber.

"Nothing!" Eren says defensively. He runs back into the kitchen, grabs another bowl, and fills it with the eggplant stew.

Rose's cold eyes follow Armin back into the dining room. Eren stands in the kitchen door frame looking bewildered.

"Uh, hey, do you, um, want to try this?" Eren passes the bowl tentatively to Armin. "I think there was, um, something...wrong with your food..."

"Oh. Sure." Armin takes the bowl and sits back down.

Mikasa laughs. "Come on, Eren! Learn to stir a pot."

Eren glares at her and thinks about what Levi said about good opponents. He cocks his head. "You know what, Mika," he says, refilling his glass of water, "there's a reason I cooked tonight, and not you." He sits down authoritatively.

Mikasa scoffs. "Oh. I can cook."

"Yeah?" Annie says with a smirk.

"Hey! You're supposed to be on my side here!" Mikasa glowers.

Annie holds her hands up.

"Next week," Eren says with a competitive sneer. "Your turn."

"Fine," she says with a sly grin. She crosses her arms.

"Sorry," Annie says to Armin. "You're gonna' have to come back."

Armin smiles. He enjoys the petty banter between Mikasa and Eren. Having no siblings of his own makes him feel cut off, anxious about the wide swath of experiences he's never had, with an empty feeling of missing out. He always feels cut off. Even at the center of everything, in the spotlight, a wide space stands between him and everyone watching. The only way to not be on the periphery of things, it seems, is to be in the center. But even there, he feels alone.

There's something so charmingly normal about Eren that makes him seem more real. Something charming about sitting in a normal house, with a normal family, eating dinner on a weeknight. A normal guy likes me, Armin thinks. Does that make me normal? Does it make me real?

But this is not a normal house, Armin reminds himself, his eye catching a panel of calligraphy hanging on the wall behind Annie, the air full of spices he doesn't recognize. And this is not a normal family, of two physicians and two intimidatingly talented athletes. And Eren isn't a normal guy, is he? Armin shifts a little in his seat. Normal guys don't have jade green eyes and wily smiles and—

"Is that any better?" Eren turns to him. The shift in his tone talking to Armin makes Annie raise an eyebrow and turn to Mikasa.

"Yeah," Armin says. Vastly so. It's actually delicious, but Armin's afraid to say just how much better it is. "It's great."

Eren looks at Armin with a vulnerable expression, clearly unaware of the delicate arrangement of his face.

"I really like it," Armin says. His voice comes out more softly than he intends. Like talking to a baby bird.

Eren grins from ear to ear. Armin sits with supernatural posture, like the girls across from him. Eren feels brutish in comparison, suddenly self conscious in a way he'd never previously been. There's an ethereal, elf-like quality to Armin, he thinks; not delicate, but lithe. Armin seems to occupy a totally different universe, having traveled so much; there's a sophistication to him that makes him seem more real. The elf king likes me, Eren thinks, with a glowing bubble of pride building in his chest.

He glances at Armin who laughs at one of Annie's dumb jokes. He seems so elegant to Eren, and yet, he's still just another one of Mikasa's nerdy skating friends, isn't he? A skinny kid in glasses, a shy houseguest who doesn't like spicy food.

**

Grisha pours deep red cardamom tea into little gold-edged glasses. Carla pulls a sheet of tinfoil off a plate of homemade baklava. Rose gets up and walks to another corner of the dining room, still looking at Armin.

"Oh my god, you have to try this," Annie says, plucking a little honey-soaked trapezoid from the plate.

"...I probably shouldn't," Armin says.

Eren looks confused.

"I'm not really supposed to eat sugar," Armin explains.

"Honey, this is homemade, it doesn't count," Carla says.

"Armin. Levi would be mad at you if you didn't eat this. Seriously. We make it for him all the time," Mikasa says.

"Wait," Eren says. "You're not supposed to eat sugar either? I thought that was just for—"

Mikasa and Annie give him stern looks.

"I think Levi wants all his skaters to suffer equally," Armin says gingerly, halfway joking.

"Right," Eren says, embarrassed. "Uh, anyways, here, you really should try this." Eren passes the plate to Armin.

Armin bites into a piece. He shuts his eyes. "Whoa. You were right...this is to die for."

"I still can't believe you've never had baklava," Mikasa says.

"Yeah, for someone who travels so much, you really live under a rock, don't you," Annie says.

Armin laughs. "Thanks." He gives her a look. She just grins. "But...yeah, I see why Levi makes an exception for this." Armin reaches for another piece. "I really like this tea, too."

Eren beams. When the dessert has disappeared and the glasses are empty, he starts to gather the plates, expecting to do the dishes as usual.

"I got it, sweetheart," Carla says. She takes the stack of plates from Eren. "You cooked. You guys go relax."

"Girls, do you mind taking the dog out?" Grisha gathers up the glasses.

"Sure," Mikasa shrugs.

"Rose, why are you acting so weird?" Annie kneels down by the dog who licks her face, then turns her chilly gaze back on Armin. "You think it's because she knows she's going away?" Annie asks the others.

"What do you mean?" Armin asks.

"We've been training her," Grisha says. "She's a service dog. Somebody's getting a new family next week," he says, scratching the dog's ears. Rose lets out a moan. Armin notices Eren looks suddenly glum.

"I think she knows," Carla says. She and Grisha carry the dishes into the kitchen; Annie and Mikasa gather their coats.

"Uh...I'm really sorry about the food. And, um, the dog...thing," Eren says awkwardly.

"What? Eren, it's fine," Armin says. Eren looks nervous and unconvinced. "Seriously. I can cook, like, two things that aren't ramen noodles...and I'm pretty sure one of those is just another kind of pasta."

Eren cracks a smile.

"Everything was great. Really." Armin puts his hand on Eren's shoulder.

"So...you wanna' go downstairs?" Eren asks, alone with Armin in the dining room.

Armin smiles, looks at the floor, then back at Eren.

**

Eren feels his blood pressure rise as they walk down the stairs. Eren's basement is cozy and cavelike, Armin thinks. A radiator clangs in the corner. Another one of Carla's ornate rugs fills the space between the plush couch and the television. Eren starts to reach for Armin when Armin spots a holographic blue box on a shelf. His face lights up.

"You have Planet Earth!" he exclaims. He pulls the set from the shelf and slides it open. "Oh my god, can we watch this? I haven't seen it in forever..."

"Yeah, absolutely," Eren says, charmed by Armin's childlike excitement. This will be good, he thinks. Something nice and soothing to have playing in the background.

Armin gasps. "Ice Worlds," he says, eyes aglow. "No! Deep Oceans. No, Shallow Seas! Agh, I can't decide...which episode should we watch?" He sighs, as though making a major life decision. "You pick." He hands the box to Eren and slumps against Eren's chest.

Eren gives him a one-armed hug. "I think this one has the most dolphins," he says, pulling the Deep Oceans disc from the case. He slides it into the player and a bright blue glow fills the room. As he stands up, Armin hugs him from behind. Eren laughs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Armin says, letting him go. "I'm just excited."

About what, Eren thinks; dolphins, or me? But Armin's smile is infectious, lit up in the electronic blue. Eren pulls him closer and kisses him. Armin laughs.

"What?" Eren says, jolting a little, revealing his nervousness.

"You taste like cardamom," Armin says, smiling. He can feel Eren's rapid heartbeat. He kisses Eren again with a bolstered sense of confidence. It's not that Armin isn't nervous. But the knowledge that Eren is too, the stiffness to his body, the moisture of his palms, and the shallowness of his breath all give Armin something to feed off of. Leverage. "Lie down with me," he says.

Eren sputters a little laugh. "You really don't have to ask."

Armin grins. "Ok, well in that case, come here." He grabs Eren's hand and pulls him toward the couch. Eren likes these bursts of forwardness. Armin pulls off his glasses and lays them on the side table.

"You don't need your glasses?" Eren asks.

"Not for something this close, no," Armin says.

"Good," Eren says with a grin as Armin pulls him on top of him. "I don't want to be blurry." But when he leans in to kiss Armin, their teeth make a loud, painful click.

"Eren," Armin laughs, turning his face to the side. "Be gentle," he says sarcastically. "I don't have a dentist in Chicago yet."

Eren groans and rests his forehead against Armin's chest. He lets his arms go limp.

"Eren, I'm kidding," Armin says. "Eren."

Eren says nothing, just lies there.

"Oh my god, come here," Armin says. He kisses the top of Eren's head and pulls him closer.

Those, Eren thinks, are the magic words. Words to erase all doubt. Eren smiles and wraps his arms around Armin's back. Armin reaches for the back of Eren's neck and tilts his chin up to meet Eren's lips. He had made a point, all day, of liberally applying chapstick, so as not to be so reptilian in his kissing. It worked. Eren lets his lips press a little more firmly against Armin's, his tongue swirling a little deeper into Armin's mouth; Armin lets himself sink deeper into the couch, his fingers twisting through Eren's hair. Armin is not nearly as light as he looks, Eren realizes; his thin body is dense in Eren's arms. Eren feels the contour of his muscles through the soft fabric of his sweater and grips him a little tighter.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?" Eren asks after a minute.

"No," Armin says. "It feels really good." He slides his hands down Eren's back. "To make an understatement," he adds sheepishly, clutching Eren to him. The heat and pressure of Eren's body pull him into a slight delirium. He sighs heavily. "I never touch anyone," he confesses.

Eren lays his head next to Armin's and kisses his cheek. "We can work on that," he says mischievously, which makes Armin chuckle. "I think know what you mean, though." He's quiet for a moment. The sounds of water and David Attenborough's narration fill the room. "I guess I hug my parents and Mikasa," he muses. "Some of the guys on the team are big huggers." He thinks of Connie and Reiner. And the games of chicken. But even those moments are fleeting, nothing so prolonged or relaxing as this. And Armin has no team to speak of. "But that's it." Eren kisses Armin's collarbone, then his neck. Armin inhales sharply. "Is that ok?" Eren asks.

"Yeah, it's—um. Yeah. It's really nice," Armin admits. Eren does it again. Armin slides his hands up Eren's shirt, running them up the taut muscles of Eren's back. Eren smiles and his lips find Armin's mouth again. Both of them are hard through their jeans, little columns of heat pressing against each other. The floorboards creak overhead, announcing Carla and Grisha's paths through the kitchen and living room. The boys don't care. Nothing can break the trance, pull them out of the ecstasy of touch, except for—

"Dolphins!" Armin shrieks, turning toward the TV screen.

Eren laughs and lays his head on Armin's chest again.

"Sorry," Armin says. "I just...I just love them so much."

"I know," Eren says. He looks Armin for a moment. "Do you try to be cute, or does it just happen?"

Armin rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. Eren takes advantage of his exposed neck and kisses it. Armin gasps a little in surprise, then relaxes. "I really like it when you do that," he says.

Eren grins and kisses Armin's ear, then his temple. "If you think of anything else, let me know," he says, grateful for the direction.

"I'm gonna' take my sweater off," Armin says.

Eren sits back on the far end of the couch; Armin sits up and peels off the cardigan, laying it next to his glasses, leaving just his white t-shirt underneath. Eren looks him up and down with a mixture of hunger and awe, wondering if he always wears such tight clothes. Armin feels something click. This, he intuits, is how we wants to be seen. Rather than lying back down, he sits in Eren's lap and drapes his arms around his shoulders.

A shaft of light pours down the basement stairs as the door creaks open. The boys sit bolt upright with their backs flush to the back of the couch.

"Hey, we're gonna' play Mario Kart, you guys wanna' join?" Annie says.

"Uh..." Eren glances at Armin. Armin shrugs. "We're good. Thanks."

"All right, suit yourselves," she says. "Don't break the couch."

Eren scoffs. The light thins and vanishes.

Armin sinks a little. "I actually...would kind of rather not try anything with your folks here." He glances at the creaking ceiling.

"Oh. Yeah. No," Eren says. "I was...thinking the same thing." He had wondered how it was possible to feel so horny and so hopelessly shy at the same time. Evidently, it wasn't just Armin's phantom body that was a fantasy earlier, but his own confidence. Eren deflates with relief at having an out. He lies on his side and motions for Armin to lie in front of him. Armin obliges. Eren embraces him again and kisses the back of Armin's neck, sending a shiver down Armin's spine. Hooking up may be off the table, but a corporeal survey isn't: fuel for fantasies, familiarity for their next encounter. Eren slides his hand across the front of Armin's jeans, where the unforgiving fabric pulls against his hard cock, then up Armin's shirt, across the rigid plane of his abs. His breath is hot against Armin's neck and he lets his erection press shamelessly against Armin's firm, round butt. Armin drinks in the attention, relishing the touch. He presses his back into Eren's chest, then reaches for Eren's hand to pull his arm tighter across him. I want him so bad, Armin thinks; just not here. Eren's parents are not exactly the voyeurs Armin had in mind.

Eren drinks in the smell of Armin's hair. He smells like a Nordic forest, Eren thinks. Something expensive. Eren just smells like Old Spice, Armin thinks, but it's a pleasant smell, generic and masculine.

"I can't believe you chose me over Mario Kart," Eren says.

Armin laughs and turns onto his back, lying in the crook of Eren's arm. "Well for one, I suck at video games," he admits. "Big surprise there," he says with a little eye roll. He reaches up and touches Eren's jaw. "But also..." his eyes are wide and shining, "I mean," he suppresses a little laugh, gazing guilelessly up at Eren, "what could possibly be better..." he blinks slowly and sighs, "than David Attenborough talking about dolphins?"

Eren collapses with a groan back onto Armin's chest, lying slug-like like before. Armin heaves with laughter underneath him.

"Nothing," Eren says into Armin's shirt. "Can't think of anything."

"I know," Armin says with mock wonder. "Me either." He gently rubs Eren's back. "Hey Eren?" Eren lies still. "Eren," Armin whispers. "Hey. Come here."

Eren gazes up at him with the mischievous smile that makes Armin want to melt. He slips his hands underneath Armin again and plants a slow, breathy kiss on his neck.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to update again so soon, but then this little chapter just kind of happened. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Eren's breath begins to lengthen and deepen. When the irritated tension in his balls subsides, he finds himself sinking into a profound and unexpected relaxation. He anticipated being happy. But not remotely serene. Is it the whale sounds coming from the television? The semi-darkness, the heat from the ancient radiator? Does this just happen, he wonders, when you hug someone for more than a few minutes? Or is it specifically because he has his arms wrapped around Armin?

Eren's hands are calloused from barbells and hockey sticks, even from lacing up his skates over and over. Armin doesn't care. The last time he felt this sort of exhilarated pride, he was holding his fellow performers' hands, about to take a bow in the center of the ice in a massive arena in Shenzhen, the end of the first show of the tour. All those thousands of clapping hands sent him a message: You escaped. You won. In that instant, he felt he had gone from transparent to opaque.

When he wandered exhausted out of US customs at O'Hare, he felt strange and incorporeal again. Adrift, with a mix of curiosity and dread about what would happen next. He hadn't expected this. Now he finds himself once again bathed in colorful light and holding someone's hand: a reminder that he is, in fact, solid. He gives Eren's hand a squeeze and releases it. He turns onto his other side, facing Eren, and rests his head against Eren's chest.

Never mind, Eren thinks. A rush of blood flows back between his legs. He's never been so happy to be frustrated, waiting for the confluence of privacy and confidence he needs to initiate anything beyond a slow exploration. His bandaged hand rakes gently through Armin's hair. The other tunnels up the soft fabric of Armin's shirt, up the long crevice between the dense cords of muscle lining his spine.

"I really like your hair," Eren says into the top of Armin's head. He feels Armin smile. "Did you always wear it long?"

"I always did when I was little," Armin says. "I started cutting it since I kept getting made fun of for looking like a girl." He sighs. "Then I just decided, fuck it, some of my favorite people are girls. I could do worse."

An image of his friend Krista pops into Eren's mind; she and Armin look like they could be siblings, he thinks. He suddenly wishes he could retract his statement from the other night; Krista, Sasha, and Hannah lead a long line of counterexamples. Even Ymir, tough and bitchy as she can be, always takes his side, Eren realizes.

He strokes Armin's hair again. "It's really..." Pretty is not the right word. He does find it pretty, though not in quite the same way he would describe Krista or Daniela as pretty. Perhaps alluring. "I just...really like it." He rests his hand on the back of Armin's neck. "Are you going to keep growing it out?"

"Maybe," Armin says. "I might not go full-on Lord of the Rings with it. I'll have to see."

"Aw," Eren groans.

Armin chuckles. "What, you have a thing for elves?"

Eren laughs and says nothing. He does. It wasn't that he didn't love the huge, gory fight scenes in the films, but secretly, he would have been content to fast-forward to Rivendell.

"I just kind of let it go crazy while I was in China," Armin continues. "I think I cut it...maybe twice."

"Man," Eren says. "I can't believe you were gone for an entire year. I get homesick over six weeks of hockey camp, and that's just downstate," he confesses. He feels Armin shrug. "Why did you decide to go?" He pauses. "I mean. I guess that's an obvious thing—"

"No," Armin interjects gently. "It was different for all of us, really. Like the cast was pretty much fifteen to thirty-five, so, you have people at all stages of their careers." He takes a deep breath and buries his head in Eren's chest. "I mean for me...I mostly wanted to just prove I could do it and get out of Michigan."

"Yeah?" Eren senses he's been told something he shouldn't repeat. He kisses the top of Armin's head. "What was it like? Being away that long, I mean?"

Armin grins and searches his mental list of metaphors. "Kind of surreal." He lays on his back again with Eren's arm around his shoulders. "Kind of like a weird summer camp that never ends."

"Really?" Eren's eyes follow the contour of Armin's cheekbone, silhouetted against the screen.

"Yeah. Or maybe a reality TV show," Armin chuckles. "Where, like, you have a bunch of adults that can't read." Eren laughs. "It was so weird," Armin says. "Like, you almost feel like an animal, because you can kind of understand people, but you can't fucking read anything. So you're either, like, very exotic, or kind of pathetic and helpless, or both."

"Wait, were you with the same group of people the whole time?" Eren rests his other hand on Armin's hip bone.

"Kind of," Armin smiles at the new touch. The unspoken agenda of the evening is to try every permutation of lying with, on, and next to each other. "There's like, a core cast of like fifteen people, and a core crew. And then every region had a local crew and ensemble we performed with, so we'd get, like, new people to work with every few cities." Armin sighs and gazes at the ceiling. "I mean it's all ice skaters, right? So everyone's basically a prima donna."

"That is...consistent with my experience, yes," Eren admits. "Ok, maybe except for you," he adds hastily, which makes Armin laugh. "But then I also don't know that many guys who skate."

"Yeah, well, you haven't really seen me skate," Armin says with a little smirk. "So I'm gonna' have to let you make up your own mind about that." He lays his hand on Eren's waist. "But yeah," he continues, his voice wistful. "I met some really cool people. Who are all conveniently thousands of miles of away."

So much for competition, Eren thinks selfishly. "Everybody spoke English?"

"For the most part, yeah." Armin says. His face falls. "Some of them...oh my god, it wasn't fair; their English was so good it was just about perfect. It made me so embarrassed I couldn't speak Chinese, I just wanted to die."

"You're not really used to being bad at things, are you?" Eren asks, cocking his head.

Armin shuts his eyes. "Yeah, usually I avoid those things like the plague," he admits.

"What else are you bad at?" Eren teases. "Besides video games and this, like, notoriously difficult language?"

"But that's the thing!" Armin raises his hands in frustration. Eren enjoys this little jolt of animation. "Parts of it aren't even that hard! Like the grammar is super easy!" He collapses back into Eren's arms. "It's the tones. I could not get the tones. You can say one syllable five different ways, and it means five different things, and it drove me crazy."

"So you're tone deaf?"

Armin rolls his eyes.

"Can you sing?" Eren prods.

"Only if I've been drinking baijiu."

"What's that?"

"Basically firewater," Armin says.

Eren laughs. "Sounds like you did have some fun then."

"Oh, sure," Armin says. "Parts of it were great."

"So you didn't get homesick."

Armin goes quiet for a moment. Isolated, yes. Bored, yes. Restless, yes. But not homesick. Not for the place he left, anyways. More of a longing for a place that has yet to exist. "Not really," he says quietly. Eren seems impressed. Armin feels disingenuous. But he doesn't know how else to describe it.

"How'd you end up in Chicago?" Eren asks.

"My coach in Michigan is friends with Levi."

"Wait. Levi has friends?"

Armin laughs. "Believe it or not."

Eren shudders a little. "Oh my god. He's so creepy." He grabs Armin a little tighter. "How do you even put up with him."

Armin laughs. "Well it's one thing when you're just talking about skating all the time," he says. "I mean, yeah, he's kind of a weird bird...honestly, I don't know how you deal with your own coaches, to tell the truth."

"What, Mike and Erwin?"

"Is that their names?" Armin asks.

"Oh," Eren smirks. "Erwin coaches in the summer. So that man's been yelling at me since before I even knew I was into guys."

"That's fortunate," Armin says with a nod. "So wait, is Erwin the one who looks like a Viking, or the one that looks like Captain America?"

Eren laughs. "Captain America."

Armin inhales through his teeth. "I saw them this morning."

"What?"

Armin lays against Eren's chest again. "I went to the gym with my grandpa. I think Mike works there."

Eren looks alarmed. "You went to the gym? I thought you were supposed to be resting your knee!"

"I just went swimming," Armin says innocently. "They were talking about Levi in the sauna. You know he's with your coach, right?"

"What, Levi?"

"Yeah."

Eren draws back. "Oh, shit. I was right." The little behind-the-scenes featurette ends and the screen switches back to the DVD menu. "You want to watch another one?" Eren asks. He uses the word 'watch' loosely.

Armin grins. "What do you think?"

Eren reaches for the remote control and plays the next episode. He lies on his back and guides Armin to lie on top of him. But Armin's body feels stiff and awkward. "Armin...you can put all your weight on me, you know." He wraps his arms around Armin again, who gives a little embarrassed laugh and gradually relaxes. Eren sighs at the pressure on his body. Just when he thought he couldn't enjoy holding Armin more.

"I'm gonna' fall asleep like this," Armin whispers.

"That's ok," Eren says softly. The thought of it makes him want to melt into the couch.

Armin turns his head to the side, resting his ear below Eren's collarbone. For a few moments, the universe contracts to one warm, quiet basement, awash in images of the ocean. So this is what they mean when they talk about a comfortable silence, Armin thinks. It had taken Marco the better part of the tour to understand that sometimes Armin didn't want to talk, and that was ok. When they finally hit that tipping point, Marco was astounded that Armin wanted to spend more time with him, not less; walking through an unfamiliar city, cuddling, or just sitting next to each other, reading. "You are like a cactus," Marco told him one day. Armin bristled at the thought of being metaphorically spiny. "You only need a little bit of water," Marco clarified. "But the water is talking." Armin had laughed. And you, my friend, are a monsoon, he said to himself.

You're a little bit like a dolphin, Eren thinks as he runs his hands down Armin's back; cute, creepily smart, and I bet your skin is really shiny when it's wet. Eren begins to drift off, intoxicated by the smell of Armin's hair. Underneath the woodsy notes is something musky and visceral for which Eren has no words. Gravity seems stronger than usual, pinning the two of them together.

"Have you been to the aquarium?" Eren asks after a few languorous minutes.

"Not in a long time," Armin says. "I used to go when I was little and I came to visit my grandparents here." A warm cloud of nostalgia descends upon him.

"We should go."

Armin nods, slips his hands underneath Eren's torso, and squeezes him. "Skip school so we can go when it's not crowded."

Eren laughs. "I'd do it."

Armin presses himself up on his forearms. His hair dangles around his face in a little curtain that tickles Eren's cheek. He kisses Eren again with the same unnerving certainty, and Eren's grip on Armin's hipbones softens. Armin finds the back of Eren's neck with one hand, the other drifts lazily through Eren's hair. Eren lets himself sink into the unfamiliar feeling of being wanted and controlled; controlled by something that isn't forceful.

Armin grips a handful of Eren's hair and pulls it lightly. Eren lets out a little gasp. "Oh my god," he moans. "Do that again."

Armin laughs softly and gently tugs at a different section of Eren's scalp. Eren makes a pitiful little moan that makes Armin smile.

"Why does it feel good," Eren says helplessly.

"Scalp massage," Armin says plainly. "Everyone has lots of tension there." He presses his thumbs lightly into Eren's temples and Eren's eyes flutter shut. Armin pulls his fingertips across Eren's scalp in slow, controlled, patterns, then finds his way to Eren's jaw and neck. He senses Eren turning to putty beneath him. He isn't applying any extraordinary amount of pressure. But he's never felt so powerful.

"You are magic," Eren mutters. His eyes open. "Did I say that out loud?"

Armin lowers himself back onto Eren for another kiss.

**

They sit in the dark garage for a moment before Eren opens the door. Eren leans across the console and kisses Armin's neck. He begins to draw back when Armin loops a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls him close again.

Eren starts the car. Music blares from the speakers, turned all the way up. Eren immediately punches it off. "God damn it, Mikasa," Eren grunts.

Armin laughs, still startled from the sudden blast of noise. "So that's not the first time she's done that."

Eren rolls his eyes and pulls out of the driveway. Snow immediately pelts the windshield. "Yeah...usually I turn the volume all the way down before I start the car," he admits.

"Did I distract you?"

"Maybe a little." Eren pulls up to a stop sign and leans over to peck Armin on the cheek.

"You gotta' get back at her," Armin muses. "Use up all of her shampoo or something."

"I dunno." Eren flicks on the windshield wipers to brush away the thickening snow. "I don't really know how I feel about smelling like peaches."

Armin shrugs. "I like peaches."

Eren grins and nods. The word 'peach' makes him think of Armin's perfect butt.

Eren turns onto Lake Shore Drive, flanked by total darkness on one side, the glimmering skyline on the other. "What are you doing this weekend?" He asks. He smiles wider. "We still have to compare bruises."

"My show opens," Armin says, trying not to let on how obvious the answer to Eren's question is.

Eren's face falls.

"I'll be free afterwards, though."

Selfishness clenches at Eren. "You sure you're not going to be too tired?"

"I'm sure I'll be completely exhausted," Armin says with a grin. "It's all right. I'll make you take care of me."

Eren inhales sharply through his teeth. He shakes his head. "You'll be in good hands."

But Eren's heart sinks as he reaches the massive Streeterville high rise, the glass glowing blue against the black void of the lake. He had hoped for a dark, private parking garage to drop Armin off in, and a few more minutes, if not just to kiss him, to go down on him. A doorman waits underneath a brightly lit awning. Eren sighs and kisses Armin discreetly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Armin half-whispers as he climbs out of the car, his movements stilted from his heavy wool coat.

Eren smiles. His eyes follow Armin into the glowing building.


	16. Chapter 16

Armin's phone buzzes in his pocket as he steps out of the elevator. A text from Marco.

9:51 PM _Guess what!_

Armin rolls his eyes and sighs.

_I invited Jean for a coffee_ , reads the next message.  
_You will be so angry_  
_But_  
_It was THE BEST!_  
_Hahahaha_

Oh my god, Marco, shut up, Armin thinks. He unlocks the door to the dark apartment. The cat mews and winds herself precariously between his feet.

_I'm happy for you_ , Armin types.

_Yes it was great_ , Marco responds.  
_We hooked up in his car_  
_They don't call him a horse for nothing!_ He sends a string of horse emoji.

Armin contracts with a mixture of embarrassment and jealousy. He slaps his phone down against the dining room table and pours himself a glass of water. He wishes he'd told Eren to drive to the parking deck, not the front door. The phone continues to blink.

_Jean is_  
_How do you even say it in English_  
_He has the thirst_

_Marco, don't tell me these things_ , Armin writes.

_But you are the only person I can tell them to_ , he says. He adds a sad face.

_Really?_  
_There's no one in Italy you can text about this?_  
_Or China?_

_Yes_ , Marco types with a wink.  
_But they are all asleep!_  
_And I wanted to tell you first_

_I'm honored_ , Armin writes. Marco sends back a smile. So you've bagged your first trophy on US soil, Armin thinks. You must be so proud.

_How was Eren's!?!?_

Armin blinks at the screen. He slouches. He can't think of when he's been so happy, or felt so utterly adored—not even in front of the huge, cheering crowds. _We watched Planet Earth and made out_ , he writes.

_That's all?_

Armin groans.  
_Mikasa, Annie, and Eren's parents were all there, upstairs_  
_Besides_  
_I'm trying to get invited back_  
Not to mention I only met him a week ago, Armin thinks. These things always go so much more smoothly in the theater of his imagination.

_Aw_  
_You are such a good boy_

Armin rolls his eyes again. _Believe me, if I ever get to bang him, you'll be the first to know_

Marco sends a thumbs up.  
_I do not know how you could resist_  
_Hahaha if I were there I would be all over him!_

Armin's face falls. Then he smirks. _Too bad_ , he says. _I'm not sharing._

_What happened to my nice friend???_

_Go ride your horse_ , Armin types with a wink.

_Hahahahaha_  
_It is just so cute how much you like him_ , Marco says.

Armin collapses into a chair. _Yeah, you know, I'm trying really hard not to mess this one up._

_You are doing that thing again!_

_What?_

_Where you think you are doing everything wrong but nothing is wrong_  
_I do not understand you_  
_You are so smart about everything else_

_Thanks?_ The cat jumps onto the table and Armin strokes her back.

_don't worry It's adorable_ , Marco replies

_Ok, I'll take your word for it_ , Armin says. He wonders if Eren finds hesitation and shyness attractive—does Eren like him because of it, or in spite of it? I don't want to be so anxious, Armin thinks. And up until this evening, he hadn't been, at least less so than usual, feeding off Eren's awkwardness. The thought of ruining something promising creeps like a spider through his consciousness.

_You are like a bunny_ , Marco says. Armin raises an eyebrow. _Shy and cute. Everyone likes bunnys. It is true and you know it._ A jade rabbit with a red tassel hangs from Armin's keys; a souvenir.

_Then you must be a dog because you like everyone and you lick whoever will let you_ , Armin types.

Marco sends back a photo of a puppy and a rabbit in a basket.

_I rest my case_ , Armin says.  
_All right_  
_I'm going to bed_  
_I'll talk to you tomorrow_

Marco sends back a smile and a rabbit emoji.

Armin flicks on his bathroom light and looks at himself, still lit up by the feeling of being wanted. His judgment lands a little less harshly on his body as he pulls off his clothes, knowing how badly Eren wants to see it. He locks the door to his bedroom and sets the alarm on his phone. He taps on Eren's name and starts to type. He deletes it. In the absence of Eren's slightly awestruck smile, doubt filters in more easily. Armin types another line. _Hey, I had a really great time tonight_. He deletes it. I don't want him to think I'm desperate, he tells himself; or clingy. A little blonde ball and chain. _Hey thanks again for dinner tonight_. He deletes that, too.

He lies down, naked beneath the covers, and conjures up an imaginary Eren to lie on top of him again. But the cool sheets aren't the only unfamiliar feeling. Waves of pressure course through his body, echoes of Eren's weight, his hungry, exploratory touch. Armin lets his mind wander through the moments of rapture that have happened for him this week. The feeling of flying across the ice under colorful lights, hand in hand with an old friend, and then lying in the arms of a new one, in a warm, dark basement. I want him so much, Armin thinks. He feels consumed by the longing, to the point that he's afraid of consuming Eren. The thoughts don't form language, just a clenching in his gut: a fear of getting too close, and pushing Eren away. He feels like a black hole. No amount of attention or affection could ever be enough. He takes a deep breath and lets the waves of pressure pull him into a rich, dark sleep.

On the night table, his phone blinks. Texts from Eren.

1:12 AM _Hey_  
_Are you awake?_

**

Eren fidgets. Half of him wishes for Armin to be awake, because he wants to talk, though not about anything in particular. The other half wishes for Armin to be sleeping like a rock in preparation to face Levi in the morning. Rose snoozes at the edge of the bed, not having left Eren's side since he came back from dropping Armin off, guarding him.

Eren climbs silently out of bed and grabs his phone. He switches on a low light, slides off his pajama pants and contemplates himself in the mirror. He takes a selfie and deletes it. He changes the angle of his body, and taps the camera again. Still no good. He kneels on the floor in front of the mirror, with one hand around his now-erect cock and snaps another photo. This is pointless, he thinks; I look like I'm trying way too hard. Ok, maybe just one more. No. One more. He clicks delete. He tries one more time. His hand hovers around him until he sees his body exactly the way he wants to. He clicks the shutter.

Eren grins at his likeness on the small screen. There we go. The prince of the elves is going to love this. It's perfect—except for Rose's glowing eyes above his shoulder, looking on disapprovingly from the bed. Eren laughs. He sends the photo to Armin.

1:19 AM _Hey, I couldn't sleep so I thought I owed you a photo_  
_after that nice one you sent me_  
_as you can see_  
_Rose does not approve_

There's no answer, no read receipt. Eren assumes Armin must be asleep. Why can't he be asleep here? Eren rolls over and lets his face smoosh into the pillow. If I can't sleep, can I at least have someone beautiful to look at? Or hold?

He stares at the ceiling. He reaches for his phone again and cocks an eyebrow at his news feed. _Jean Kirstein was with Marco Bodt at The Bourgeois Pig_. Marco looks as winning and charming as ever. Where Eren expects to see Armin's bright smile, he sees Jean grinning smugly instead. So horseface thinks he's hot shit because he got a date, Eren thinks. Well fine, good for him, but it's not like he cooked Marco dinner or anything. Eren squints at the photo again. Marco looks good in every picture. But it's an unsettlingly good photo of Jean. He turns off the phone screen.

Sleep comes only in shallow waves for Eren. At quarter to six, he hears Mikasa climb into their father's car and the garage door opening and shutting. Rose stirs and lumbers down the stairs for her morning walk. Eren sees his mother and the fluffy dog disappear around the corner through his bedroom window. He avails himself of the solitude. He sets the alarm on his phone, turns on the shower, and reaches for a bottle of Mikasa's coveted, imported shampoo. Holographic pink with indecipherable Korean writing down the side, it's the secret to her impossibly glossy hair.

Eren squeezes a generous glob of the pearlescent goop into his hand with the intention of jerking off. But the smell is so strongly evocative of Mikasa that he loses his erection. He washes his hair with it, loathe to acknowledge the pleasant texture of the lather. Ok, he thinks; I need something that smells like a guy. He reaches for a nearly-empty bottle of body wash. 'Alpine Chaos,' reads the little graphic at the bottom. The acrid, chemical scent of something like pine fills the humid air and suddenly Eren is back in the showers at hockey camp. But Armin wouldn't be at hockey camp.

Eren leans against the warm tile wall and pictures a dressing room. The show is over, and everyone has left but the tired star, laden with flowers. Eren, tired of sharing Armin with the adoring audience, waits for him, then shuts the door behind them. He peels off the prince's costume. The room, lined with lighted mirrors, reveals their bodies from every angle. Armin rests his forearms against the glass. The mirror in front of them shows Armin's face and chest flushed red, his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders as it swings back and forth. The mirror next to them shows the sharp arch of Armin's back, the base of Eren's cock disappearing again and again, Eren's hands gripped tight around Armin's pale, panting body. Shaky handprints soil the mirror; then, a little spatter of cum.

Eren's phone chimes, breaking him out of his post-orgasmic haze. But it's not the alarm. Texts from Armin appear underneath the thumbnail of Eren's selfie.

_Hey, so_  
_You know you said I needed to warn you before I sent you a photo?_  
_Well_  
_That's gonna have to go two ways._

Eren grins with supreme, decadent satisfaction.

**

At quarter to seven, Eren sits in the Iceplex parking lot, scrolling through his phone. Snow builds up on the edges of the the car windows. He spots the photo of Jean and Marco again and scowls. _Armin Arlert and 35 others like this_. Well. Somebody's popular, Eren sneers to himself. A trail of comments in Italian follows.

Someone taps on the glass of the passenger window and Eren turns around, startled. He laughs and reaches over to unlock the door. Armin climbs into the seat next to him. His hat presses the fringe of his hair over his eyes. Eren brushes it out of the way and kisses him. Armin giggles.

"What?" Eren asks.

"You smell like Mikasa," he says sheepishly. "Did you—"

"Oh. Yeah," Eren laughs. "I was, uh...I was gonna' use it for something else, but it, um...didn't really work."

Armin blushes and nods. "Well...your hair looks great."

Eren looks in the rearview mirror. It does have a remarkable sheen today, he notices. "Oh, hey, I brought you something," he says with a wide smile. Armin looks confused. Eren hands him a thermos and a package wrapped in foil. "It's more of the tea and the baklava from last night."

Armin's eyes widen. He throws his arms around Eren. "Oh my god...thank you...you didn't have to do that."

"I just wanted to do something nice."

Armin gives Eren a flat look. "Eren. You cooked me dinner."

Eren shrugs. "So?"

Armin sighs.

"Just don't show it to Levi, he won't leave you any," Eren says. He reaches for Armin again and gives him another kiss. A feeling of warmth pours through his body.

"I should go put my skates on," Armin says after a few moments. In the mostly empty, cavernous building, no one notices the two young men walking through the long atrium, hand in hand.

Mikasa looks at the clock, then frantically at Levi. "One more run-through," she implores. Levi nods sternly as the boys walk in. Mikasa takes a deep breath and takes the center of the ice. Levi points the remote control at the stereo. He holds up a finger to Armin. Armin nods. Levi turns back to Mikasa. Armin reaches for Eren's face, kisses him, and vanishes into the locker room.

"Hey," Mikasa huffs, leaning over the low wall. "Sorry. I'll be ready to go in just a minute."

"Don't worry about it," Eren says. "Your program looks really good."

Mikasa smiles and dashes for the other end of the ice. She can take her time changing, Eren thinks. He wants to watch Armin warm up again.

"Arya, your knee is better?" Levi asks as Armin pushes open the short, heavy door.

"Yeah," he says. "It feels totally fine."

"Good," Levi nods. "Then we will begin."

Eren watches Armin stroke a few laps around the open ice, punctuated with a few lazy waltz jumps. He moves so effortlessly, Eren thinks. Levi clicks the remote again and strange, tinkly piano fills the rink: the opening to David Bowie's _Lady Grinning Soul_. Armin's movements are languorous and sinister. Not unattractive, and no less masterful than what Eren expects. Just creepy. Creepier than anything he imagined Armin could produce, as if the song had taken possession of him, executing its will.

Mikasa joins Eren at the edge of the ice and grins. She shakes her head. "This is such a weird song for him," she says. "But it kind of works." Her warm-up music had been _Cat People_.

"Yeah," Eren says, transfixed.

"You ready to go?"

"No," Eren says, his eyes still on Armin. Mikasa laughs and crosses her arms.

The music ends and Armin gives them a little wave from across the rink. It's not until they're halfway through the atrium that Mikasa sniffs the air. She stops. Eren turns around. She shoots him a venomous look that could melt the ice.

 

***

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Two white lines of steam hover in the cold air in the quiet rink. Levi has declared a tea break. Armin practices two things in the mornings, he thinks. The first is skating. The other is tolerating the presence of an uncomfortably attractive man. No wonder he feels more and more comfortable around Eren. Armin thinks of Levi like a snow leopard: something rare and untouchable, to be admired from a distance. Eren, on the other hand, is something he can pick up and take home. Levi is fiercely dedicated to his skaters' success, and that includes a grave concern for their wellness. But Levi is not warm.

"What is that you are drinking?" Levi asks.

"I think just black tea with cardamom. Eren gave it to me."

Levi's face peels into a little smile. "He is rather smitten with you," Levi observes.

Armin stares into his thermos.

"Arya, it is not a bad thing," Levi says. "Our art must have an audience. After all, it is your job to be captivating." Levi looks into the distance. "You do not distract your audience from reality, Arya. You bring them back into it." He turns back to Armin. "You must never skate merely for attention, Arya. Of course, that is a part of it. But it cannot be the only part!" He squints. "You can tell when someone skates only for attention. They have no passion. If you have passion, you will be captivating! You will not need to seek attention, it will come to you whether you want it or not." Levi takes a long sip of tea.

Passion, Armin thinks. Got it. He finishes his tea and stretches, then steps back onto the ice. He begins to stroke another lap.

"People do not have passion, Arya," Levi waxes to his captive audience. "They are dead on the inside. This is why we do our art. Because it wakes them up!" he says, drifting slowly backwards. "If you are awake to your passion, everything you do will be art!"

Armin nods, warmed up again. He wonders if Levi subjects Erwin to these monologues. Or maybe they're perfect for each other in that regard as well, besides both being unfairly beautiful.

Levi turns on Armin's music again. He runs through the long program with no falls, but struggles to keep up.

"Arya, you are skating like a penguin."

Armin gives him a pleading look.

"I am joking mostly," Levi says with a faint grin.

"It's so fast for me," Armin says.

"Yes, but you are not falling. This is progress. We will work on the transitions."

Armin drills the intricate chains of footwork over and over. The movements have to become effortless before they can become artistic. He runs through the whole program again.

"Better," Levi says. "Again. This time, you skate as if the person you want is watching you."

**

Levi crosses his arms and looks down at Armin as he unlaces his skates. "Do you think you are doing too much?" He asks.

"I—what do you mean?"

"Your show, and your competition in January. It is not too much?"

Armin shrugs. "The Nutcracker choreography isn't that hard," he says.

"Yes, but that is not what I asked you. You have just moved, you have been traveling. All of that is a lot."

"Do you think I'm doing too much?" Armin asks.

"That depends on how you feel," Levi says. "Only you can say that."

Armin slips on his sneakers and hoists his bag onto his shoulder. He walks with Levi out into the atrium.

"And Arya—you should not lie about that. If you think it is too much, you need to say something."

He nods. "Uh, so...since the show opens tomorrow night...could I, uh, maybe come in later Saturday for conditioning?"

"That is fine," Levi says. "I have Kashka coming in at noon. I'm sure she will not mind if you are also there."

Armin tries to hide his excitement at being able to stay out later after the show with Eren on Friday. He climbs into his grandfather's car and remembers the hidden package of baklava in his bag. Maybe I should share it, he thinks. He's supposed to join up with a homeschool co-op for the sciences on Thursdays and Fridays, run by a friend of Moblit's named Zoe Hange at her educational greenhouse in the West Loop. Maybe a peace offering of food will offset the terror of meeting new people. Armin unwraps the foil and picks up a sticky piece. He takes a bite and honey melts through the thin layers of dough. A figure appears in his window. Armin looks up and sees Levi standing next to his car. He rolls down the window. Levi opens his palm, and Armin places a piece of baklava in it. Levi gives a satisfied nod and walks away.

Armin notices his phone blinking. He licks the honey off his fingers to answer it. The thought of licking honey off of Eren crosses his mind. He smiles.

 _Ok seriously how do you do it_ , reads the text from Eren.  
_You make it look so easy_  
_I don't believe you're just making it up as you go along_

 _I'm counting the music in my head_ , Armin writes.  
_You can usually tell when it's going to change_  
_I know how long the steps take so I just string them together._  
He pauses for a moment after he hits 'send.'  
_I guess you probably meant that rhetorically_

 _No I'm legit curious_ , comes Eren's response.

_I mean you make hockey look effortless, so there's that_

_It's all drills_ , Eren writes.  
_I guess if you do anything long enough it looks effortless_

If I talk to you long enough, will it become effortless? Armin wonders. He wishes he had more experience when it came to relationships, wishes it all came naturally. But something about talking to Eren makes it feel easier. Armin takes that as a good sign. _I made a bad decision_ , he writes.

_?_

_I ate all the baklava._

_Um no I think you mean you made a great decision_ , Eren says. _Did you hide it from Levi?_

_I gave him a piece._

_Figures_ , Eren says.  
_Ok well you'll have to come over again and we'll make more_

 _I like this idea_ , Armin says.

 _I gotta run to class_  
_I'll see you tonight?_

 _I'm not sure_ , Armin says.

_: (_

_Tonight's dress rehearsal_  
_They're doing a special preview for the press_  
_So I need to be there early_

 _Aw_ , Eren says. _Ok, well_  
_if I don't see you_  
_Send photos?_

 _I'll see what I can do_ , Armin says.

**  
Jean notices a familiar, fruity smell. One that does not belong in the locker room. He sniffs the air.

"What?" Eren says, turning around.

"Nothing," Jean mutters. He goes back to putting on his gear. He notices Eren wrapping his finger in medical tape. "What'd you do to your hand?" He asks.

"Nothing," Eren snaps. Just cooking, he thinks; I bet you can't cook to save your life. Eren checks the gauze and prays the cut doesn't re-open.

It does. Even in the scrimmages, Eren makes no compromises when it comes to his playing style. At the end of practice, when he takes off his thick gloves, his hand is a mess. Erwin unpacks the first aid kit to help him. Eren doesn't want to pique his curiosity by asking him to hurry.

"Eren, are you sure that doesn't need stitches? Or something besides just tape?" Erwin asks, his Minnesota accent somehow heavier when he voices concern.

"No, it's good," Eren insists. "My mom said it was fine." And she would know, she's been to medical school, Eren thinks but doesn't say.

"If it gets any worse, you need to get it looked at," Erwin says. Eren nods obligingly. "You might not care about it now, but you're gonna' start caring about it when it starts affecting your playing."

Eren agrees with a sigh. He's right, Eren thinks. He's always right.

What's taking him so long, Armin wonders, looking furtively into the south rink for signs of Eren as the other players begin to leave. Connie gives Sasha a bear hug. Bertolt and Reiner catch Armin's eye on their way through the atrium and wave. Jean comes to join them in the cafe.

"I want to come see your show!" Marco says to Armin as the clerk hands him his change and a cup of cider.

"Don't. It's expensive," Armin says. He sits down with Mina and Jean.

"I want to come, too," Mina says.

"It's really not that special," Armin insists.

"Oh, come on." Mina peels the lid off her drink.

"Have you seen the ballet?" Armin asks.

"Sure," she says.

"Then you've seen this." Armin pulls his tea bag from the scalding water. Mina crosses her arms. Marco gives him an eyelash-batting, puppy dog stare. "Ok, fine. I'll send you guys the discount link." Armin knows Marco will hound him about it until he caves in.

"Hey," Eren appears, out of breath, hauling his cumbersome gear. Armin stands up and gives him a hug before he can set his bags down. Eren kisses his cheek. "When do you have to leave?"

"Ten minutes ago," Armin admits. Eren's face falls. "No, it's ok," Armin says.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Eren says with a pained look.

"I know," Armin says sheepishly. "I wanted to see you."

Eren drops his stuff and gives Armin a proper hug, oblivious to Jean's curious gaze. "I'll walk out with you." Eren abandons his bags and vanishes down the long hall with his arm around Armin's waist. Sasha and Connie join the others at the table.

"They are just so cute," Marco laughs.

Disgustingly so, Jean thinks, cracking open a bottle of water; if it weren't for Marco, he thinks, I'd be vomiting into that trashcan over there.

Marco drapes his arm around Jean's shoulders. "Jean, are you all right?"

Jean likes the way Marco says his name, with the true French pronunciation, not just an approximation of 'John.' "Yeah," he says. "I'm fine."

Eren pushes open the glass door and holds it for Armin.

"I was going to say you should come over tomorrow night, but I found out my grandpa's hosting bridge night," Armin says. "So, unless you want to get drunk with old people..."

"Yeah, maybe not," Eren laughs. "You want to go see a movie?"

Armin sets his bag in the front seat of the car. He reaches for the placket of Eren's coat and pulls him closer. "I would love to go sit in a dark room for two hours and not watch a movie with you," he says with a smile that makes Eren want to die, right then and there in the parking lot. "Unless it's about dolphins. Then I'm going to ignore you."

Eren rests his forehead on Armin's collarbone. "Don't torture me like that."

Armin runs his hand through Eren's hair. "I can't help it," he says softly.

Eren looks up and grins. "What do you want to go see?"

"I don't care," Armin shrugs. "Something loud and distracting for everyone else."

That wily smile again. Eren stands mesmerized for a moment. "Shit, I'm making you late," he realizes. "Go meet the press."

"In a second," Armin says. He reaches for the back of Eren's neck and kisses him. Their lips and faces are warm against the cold air. Erwin, walking to his truck with Levi, pretends not to notice them.

When Eren walks back inside, everyone at the table wears a shit-eating grin except for Jean.

**

The photos don't disappoint. Eren sits with Rose curled at his feet. _Rico Brzenska was with Daniela Brzenska and Armin Arlert at Mitras Ice Ballet._ Armin stands, beaming, with a silver-haired woman. He and Daniela wear flower crowns.

 _I knew you were an elf_ , Eren messages Armin.

_What?_

_Nice flower crown_ , Eren says.

_Well thank you._

_Sure would be a shame if someone_  
_Deflowered you_ , Eren types.

 _Oh noooo_  
_Whatever will i do_

Eren can nearly feel Armin rolling his eyes through the screen, and it makes him smile.

 _It's ok if you're jealous_ , Armin writes.

 _I mean_  
_It's a really nice flower crown_ , Eren says.

 _A friend of Daniela's made them_  
_It's real plants_  
_I feel like I need to check myself for ticks_

 _Yeah, do that_ , Eren says.

 _Grandpa asked why I brought home a wreath._  
_I just decided not to explain._  
_Also_ , Armin writes, _my phone keeps auto correcting your name to "wren"_  
_So I feel like I'm having these conversations with a tiny bird_

_I didn't want to have to tell you, but_

_I knew it_ , Armin types.

 _Please don't tell anyone_ , Eren says.  
_I can't help it_  
_I have to follow princes around_  
_It's what we do_

 _Don't worry_  
_Your secret's safe with me_

 _I knew you could be trusted_ , Eren says.  
_How'd it go tonight, by the way?_

 _Good_ , Armin says. _Everyone's excited._  
_I got interviewed by the Tribune._

_Seriously?_

_Yeah I'll send you the link when it goes up tomorrow._  
_Some of the reviews are already up._  
Armin sends Eren links to a few other news pieces.

In the press photo, Armin's hair is tied back and brushed out of his face. Eren's glad they let him keep it long for the role. But he likes it loose and messy, hanging like a little curtain that reveals Armin's beautiful eyes when he brushes it out of Armin's face. Eren feels inordinately possessive. The public gets to see Armin costumed, polished, performing. Eren wants the messy, private, unscripted version. He wants to be the one waiting in the dressing room.

 _You look amazing_ , Eren types. He doesn't want to sound desperate. But it's true. He hits 'send.'

The words glow at Armin; they light him up. He's gotten compliments before. But the origin, he thinks, is everything. He doesn't know what to say. He takes a deep breath. _I can't wait to see you tomorrow._

**

A few flakes of snow melt against Eren's face as he steps off the escalator from the Grand Avenue train station. Barhoppers freezing in heels have replaced the roving packs of Christmas shoppers. Eren walks past chatty, shivering lines of them as he heads toward the lake.

Armin waits for him in the lobby of his grandfather's building. Maybe it's just the harsh overhead lights, but he does look tired, Eren thinks. Armin had to leave for Navy Pier before Eren got out of practice, and the twenty four hours and change since Eren last saw him passed gruelingly slowly. He brushes Armin's hair out of the way again and kisses him. "I'm sorry I missed you this morning," Eren says.

"It's ok."

Eren sighs. "I overslept, and when I got up, there was a note from my mom saying she'd gone to get Mikasa—"

Armin laughs. "Eren, I know." He rests his hands on Eren's waist. Eren has already apologized via text. "Mikasa told me." He smiles, flattered at Eren's distress. "Your mom thought she was doing you a favor. It's ok." Armin feels like he's comforting a child convinced there's something lurking under the bed.

Eren hangs his head a little. "I know, I just...didn't want you think I didn't want to come see you."

Armin pulls himself a little closer. "Ok, admittedly, I had that thought for like, a minute." Eren winces; Armin squeezes him. "And then I realized it was ridiculous." He kisses Eren's neck.

"Oh, I brought you something." Eren draws back and reaches in his pocket. He gives Armin a little red tin with Arabic writing across the front. The Turkish translation underneath reveals nothing. "It's more of the tea," Eren says sheepishly. He swiped an unopened container from the cupboard. Armin grins from ear to ear and wraps his arms around Eren again. Eren sighs and relaxes; he lets himself be hugged.

"You ready to go ignore a movie?" Armin asks. Eren nods into his cheek. Armin reaches in his pocket for his gloves and slips them on as they step back out into the cold night. He pulls on his hat. Eren reaches for the little pieces of fringe and gently tucks them to the side. Armin laughs.

"Don't hide," Eren says. He kisses Armin's forehead. "How was your show?" he asks. He reaches for Armin's hand and shoves it in his deep coat pocket, which makes Armin smile. Armin wears the heavy gray parka he wears to the rink instead of his dark wool dress coat from the other night. Eren likes the casual feeling of it.

"It was fine," Armin sighs. "Nice to be in front of an audience again. We sold out the first week."

"That's awesome," Eren says with a swell of pride. "It's almost like you're famous or something."

Armin looks shyly at the ground. The cinema isn't far, but this side of the neighborhood is quiet, even on a Friday night, and the huge mounds of fresh snow soak up all the noise. Eren stops when they reach the gold ring of a streetlight and pulls Armin to him again. Thick flakes of snow cling to Eren's hair, clear enough for Armin to discern their unique shapes against the dark strands.

"Are you ok?" Eren asks.

"Yeah," Armin says. "I'm just tired. I warned you." He leans into Eren for a moment, then looks up. Eren kisses him in the silence, the snowflakes pinning themselves to their clothes like dozens of tiny stars.

**

The smell of popcorn assaults their senses when they press open the heavy glass door to the theater. Loud chatter fills the huge space. On the long, slow ride up the massive escalators, Armin wonders if he's being watched. The only other couples are adults; the other teenagers stand safe in their packs.

"Do you want anything?" Eren asks as they pass the crowded concession counters.

Armin shakes his head, but discreetly grabs a stack of napkins and shoves them in his pocket. Eren grins and follows him into the back corner of the theater. Armin silently prays that no one else sits in their row. Commercials play on the huge screen; the house lights are still up. They pile their coats into the corner and Eren lifts up the arm rest between the seats. As Armin unwraps his gray tartan scarf, Eren realizes Armin's wearing the loose, open-necked sweater from his favorite photo. He smiles greedily and kisses Armin's exposed collarbone.

Armin immediately lays his head on Eren's shoulder as soon as they sit down. "Oh my god," he groans. "I'm so tired."

Eren laughs. "You've been up since the ass crack of dawn and you've been skating all day, of course you're tired." Eren waits impatiently for the lights to go down and the others to take their seats. He gives a subtle stink eye to anyone who looks in their direction.

"I'm really afraid I'm going to fall asleep," Armin confesses.

Oh, I think I can keep you awake, Eren thinks to himself. "It's really ok," Eren says. In truth, he would be honored to be slept on. He runs his fingers through Armin's hair, the ends damp from the melted snow.

"You're not helping," Armin groans. "That feels really good, though."

"I really like playing with your hair," Eren admits.

"Good," Armin smiles. "Don't stop."

Eren realizes that this may be the only context in which he likes being told what to do. It occurs to Eren that he's also the only person who gets to touch Armin's hair. At least, he hopes he is. The thought fills him with a possessive glee. The lights finally go down and the trailers begin.

"Oh, thank God," Armin whispers. He slides over into Eren's lap in the dark and tilts his head back against Eren's shoulder. Eren immediately feels the heat building in his crotch. He kisses Armin's neck and reaches for the front of Armin's jeans.

Their row remains mercifully empty. Eren picks out the silhouettes of the rest of the crowd below them from the steep incline of the stadium seating. No reason for anyone to look in their direction; no reason for the outlines of the backs of the others' heads to snap to profiles. He reaches up Armin's sweater. Armin gasps and flinches.

"What's wrong?" Eren whispers.

"Your hands are cold," Armin says softly. Armin reaches for them and warms them up against his own. He scoffs at the trailer. A bad romantic comedy. "That looks awful," he whispers.

"I was thinking the same thing." Eren's hands are clutched around Armin's waist. Maybe this is not so bad, he thinks; a moment to literally warm up, to breathe deeply through the vestiges of butterflies still making him feel weak and light. He gently sneaks his hands up Armin's sweater again. "Is that better?" Armin nods and takes a deep breath. Eren feels the articulation of each tight little muscle in Armin's abdomen. When he reaches one of Armin's nipples, Armin shudders. "It's that ok?" Eren speaks as softly as he can into Armin's ear.

"Yeah, I'm just, uh...ticklish," Armin whispers, turning back toward Eren. Eren kisses his mouth and takes his time, one hand teasing Armin's nipple, the other slowly unbuttoning his jeans. Armin presses his body more firmly into Eren's; he draws Eren into him with the kiss. Eren gently plunges his hand into the little forest of soft hair beneath the waistband of Armin's underwear. Armin's self-conscious about his size, on the smaller side of average. But Eren likes the way his hard cock feels in his hand: a different cock, for once. He gives it a few slow strokes, feeling the subtle differences. Armin arches his back involuntarily, and the effort he makes to keep from making noise makes Eren feel powerful. He swirls his thumb around Armin's tip, spreading the little drop of precum over his skin.

Touching him feels divine, Eren thinks; he just wishes he could see him as well. The screen flickers, and colorful light flashes onto them. But for now the both rely on touch. Heat. Texture. Pressure.

Armin takes a deep, shaky breath. There's nothing Eren's doing that he hasn't done to himself a thousand times before. But the novelty of someone else's hands is electric. Every little sensation feels more intense. Armin tries to relax; he tries to soak up the heat from Eren's body, the dense wall of his torso behind him. Eren pinches his nipple and he suppresses a little gasp. For a second, Armin wonders what the consequences are for getting caught; what indecent exposure laws are on the books. He's never gotten in trouble for anything. He glances down at the crowd below. A few dark heads lean against each other; a few are connected at the mouth. He takes another deep breath and decides he doesn't care.

Eren realizes he can't map his own body onto Armin's. He keeps slowly stroking and pumping Armin's shaft, trying to imagine how each movement feels, listening for the changes in Armin's breath for cues. He slides his other hand back down Armin's chest and lightly grips his balls, eliciting another shudder and a quick nod. Eren licks Armin's neck; Armin inhales sharply, fighting to stay quiet and still as he starts to writhe in Eren's lap. Eren slides his hand down farther. His fingertips tease Armin's asshole. Armin grits his teeth. "Is that ok?" Eren whispers. Armin nods again, more slowly this time. His body goes stiff. Eren grips him harder and pumps him faster until he goes completely still, then he begins to shake involuntarily as the hot fluid gushes out of him, pooling in his navel.

Eren reaches for the pile of napkins, suddenly grateful for the suffocating smell of popcorn. He wads up the dirty tissues and hides them in his jacket pocket. Armin pulls his sweater back over himself and zips up his jeans. He lets himself melt into Eren, exhausted but relaxed. Eren wraps his arms around Armin's shoulders and kisses the back of his neck. The feeling of euphoria spreading through Armin's body isn't unfamiliar. What is unfamiliar is the accompanying touch. The company.

**


	18. Chapter 18

Time ceases to exist for Armin. He lets his body dissolve. Eren's hands drift lazily across him as he slowly regains awareness. The sound of digital bullets peppers the air.

Armin yawns and peels open one eye. "Did I fall asleep?" He whispers.

"Did you?"

Armin turns around. "I feel like I slept for like, an hour," he says with a confused embarrassment that makes Eren want to hug him tighter.

Eren shakes his head. "You were out for a few minutes, maybe."

"Weird," Armin says.

Eren grins. He's used to getting himself off. But watching the drama unfold in someone else—or in this case, feeling it—the tension and release, the agitation and then the calm, makes him feel like some kind of wizard.

Something explodes on the screen in front of them. "What is this movie even about," Armin whispers.

"I don't think anyone in here actually knows," Eren says. He kisses Armin's neck. "Do you feel any better?"

"Um...yes," Armin admits. Eren is still hard through his jeans.

For someone who typically loves to perform, Armin wishes the rest of the crowd in the theater would disappear. He wants to touch Eren, and feels suddenly awake and exposed, the veil of hormonal bliss starting to lift. He feels cold at the understanding that the spectators in his fantasies are all him. As are all the actors. An erotic puppet theater, entirely under his control. He takes a deep breath. Well, he thinks, what is life if not a series of challenges? A string of invitations to chase what one wants? And in this moment, what he wants is Eren's cock in his mouth.

He moves slowly to avoid drawing attention. He turns around and straddles Eren's lap. He's so graceful, Eren thinks as he grabs Armin's hips.

"Hey there," Eren says, his smile wide.

Armin slips his hands around the back of Eren's neck and kisses him, his hair enclosing their faces in a little blonde curtain.

"You're blocking my view," Eren teases.

Armin chuckles. "This is the best view you're ever going to get."

"Oh my god," Eren groans softly into Armin's ear. "I can't wait to do this with the lights on."

Armin glances behind him. All the other sets of eyes seem fixed on the screen. He kneels slowly onto the floor in front of Eren.

"What are you doing?" Eren whispers.

Armin rolls his eyes. "You'll never guess." He unbuckles Eren's belt and unzips his jeans as quietly as he can. He pulls down the waistband of Eren's underwear and delicately pulls his erection free, relishing the feeling of it, warm and thick in his hand. Armin grips the base with one hand and cups Eren's balls with the other. Eren tilts his head back. The heat of Armin's breath makes him harder. He lets out a gasp as Armin licks him. They freeze. Cold adrenaline pours down Armin's spine.

A couple in front of them turns around. One girl clamps her hand over her mouth, laughing; the other nods silently and gives them a thumbs up. Oh, thank god, Armin thinks. He rests his forehead against Eren's knee, then looks back up at Eren with a finger pressed to his lips. Eren hangs his head with feigned shame. Then he smiles again, his fox-in-a-henhouse smile, and guides Armin's mouth back to his cock.

Armin licks him with long, messy strokes, his hands on Eren's thighs which squirm beneath him. He spits onto Eren's tip, letting the saliva drip down the sides before he sucks it back up. Now it's Eren's turn, Armin thinks, to be helpless, feeling Eren's grip on his shoulders tighten. Armin gently swirls his tongue around and slowly descends onto Eren. Eren's tip reaches the back of Armin's throat and he pants again. But the buxom heroine on the screen pulls all the attention away from them. The sound of laser weapons and loud footsteps fills the theater, drowning out Eren's little groans and growls as Armin sucks him harder. Then Armin looks up at him slowly, innocent and doe-eyed with his lips stretched around the base of Eren's cock. Then it's hopeless. Eren's hips begin to buck involuntarily, making Armin gag and cough a little. But it's no deterrent. Armin takes Eren back into his mouth. Eren shudders as he comes, his grip on Armin's shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise.

In a way, Armin's glad they don't last particularly long. His eyes water and his jaw burns. He holds the bitter glob of semen in his mouth for a moment, then spits it into a napkin.

Eren lays in the seat like a rag doll, his glazed eyes tilt toward the ceiling. His chest rises and falls dramatically. He blinks slowly and fumbles to zip his jeans back up, motor skills temporarily suspended. Armin gives him a curious glance; Eren looks at him as though beholding a mystical creature, still wide-eyed and bewildered. He reaches his arms out. Armin climbs back into his lap and kisses him. Eren tastes himself on Armin's mouth.

Armin leans his head against Eren's chest again, tired from his last performance of the night. Eren's grip on him softens as they both doze off, oblivious to the carnage on the screen. Eren realizes he's never felt so tranquil with the sound of screaming in the background. Armin feels as though he might disintegrate into a fine sparkly powder that Eren will have to wash out of his clothes.

Through his half-open eyelids, Eren notices how Armin's light hair reflects the color from the screen, glowing red and blue, doing nothing to dismiss Eren's suspicion that he is, in fact, some kind of sprite. His arms register the gentle expansion and contraction of Armin's ribcage; a constant reminder that whatever he his, he is real, and luxuriantly content to be held. In the moments of darkness as the credits roll, Armin reaches for Eren again and gives him a slow, decadent kiss. When the lights come up and the crowd's murmur fills the room, he doesn't stop.

**

Eren laughs to himself as they drift down the escalator, his arm wrapped around Armin's waist.

"What?" Armin's voice is light and sleepy.

"You know," Eren says, "every time I smell popcorn...I'm going to think of you going down on me."

Armin smiles impishly. He feels accomplished, silently grateful for all the practice he's had on Marco. When they reach the lobby, he only puts on one glove. With his other hand, he reaches for Eren's, and shoves their hands back in Eren's coat pocket.

"I can't believe I paid to not watch a movie," Eren says as the night air hits him.

Armin grins. "Best nine dollars I've ever spent."

Eren walks Armin home in the quiet. The temperature has dropped and the snow has picked up, but on the walk back to the train station, he doesn't feel the cold. Against the cool wind, his face burns from smiling.

**

Eren notices Jean from the corner of his eye during conditioning. Jean sulks as he spots for Marlowe.

Eren takes his time showering and changing. He and Jean are the last players left in the locker room.

"Dude. What the hell is wrong with you," Eren says. He leans against a locker with his arms crossed, his towel slung teasingly low across his hips. "Mr. Italy wear you out?"

Jean looks at Eren for a moment. He goes back to changing.

"Dude. Seriously. What's gotten into you."

Jean rolls his eyes and sprays quick blasts of deodorant under his arms, still wrapped in a towel himself. Eren recognizes the scent. Alpine Chaos.

"Jean?"

Jean turns slowly back to Eren. "You don't actually want to know, you're just waiting to make some wisecrack." He reaches in his locker for a clean shirt.

"Ok, that's true...ninety percent of the time."

These sudden admissions do something to Jean. He sighs.

"I just figured you ought to be over the moon because, you know...Marco." Eren says his name with an exaggerated Italian accent.

Jean deflates against a closed locker. He gazes at the floor. "He's relentless."

"What do you mean?" Eren slinks back. "He didn't, like...make you do something...?"

"What?" Jean's eyes widen. "Oh. No." Jean had wanted to hook up with Marco. He had just not expected things to move as quickly as they did. "No. He didn't...do anything weird. He just...really wants to come over." Jean's voice cracks slightly.

Eren scoffs. "So?"

Jean groans. "Marc and Paul are back from school." Jean's older brothers are on their winter break from McGill University.

"Oh, what, you don't want to introduce your super-Catholic brothers to the gayest man on the planet?"

Jean scowls. "Ok, see? This is it! This is exactly what I was talking about—"

"Jean, I'm sorry. Seriously," Eren cuts in. "That sucks. But you've never, like, talked to your folks about it?"

Jean looks at Eren like he's an idiot. "No," he says. "I never fucking had to."

"So you don't even know what they really think."

"You know what, Eren," Jean crosses his arms, still holding his shirt in one hand, "not everybody's parents sell bottled water in their front yard during Pride to raise money for the Center on Halsted."

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry." Eren knows he's lucky. The massive annual Pride parade flows through Eren's neighborhood. When Grisha and Carla intuited they were raising two queer children, they decided to be proactive. The little front-lawn fundraisers had become popular in the neighborhood: water, sunscreen, mardi gras beads, condoms—with all the proceeds going to the local LGBT youth center.

Jean slides down the wall and rests his forehead to his knees.

"Tell them," Eren says.

"I know."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Jean tilts his head back against the metal locker door behind him and shuts his eyes. "I don't fucking know."

Eren sits on the bench across from him. "How are things with Marco otherwise?" he asks after a silent moment.

"I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing." Jean's eyes are glazed.

Eren laughs. "Yeah? Improvise."

Jean stands back up. "Great. Thanks. I'll check the Second City handbook for dating tips."

"Oh, come on," Eren says. "Man, what are you so worried about? Loosen up a little. What, do you think you're gonna' like, say one wrong thing and then you're gonna' end up on a desert island alone for the rest of your life?"

Jean freezes, his face contorted with irritation.

"I mean, so what if you blow it with Marco? Someone else will come along—"

"Psh. Sure. Maybe in your world," Jean says.

"The hell are you talking about."

Jean shakes his head.

"Come on. Marco's not fucking blind, Jean."

Jean stands still, moping.

"You think people don't like you?" Eren asks.

Jean throws his hands in the air.

"'Cause they don't," Eren says, "but it's because of your asshole personality, not because of—" he reaches over and pulls Jean's towel off of him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jean screams.

"—this," Eren says, waving his hand over Jean's naked body. "So, you're halfway there."

Jean snatches the towel back up and slaps it at Eren, knocking Eren's towel off his hips.

"Yo," Connie says, stepping back into the locker room. He stands fully dressed, his bag slung over his shoulder. "What are you two up to?"

Eren steps back and lays a hand on Jean's shoulder. "We were just having a very important heart-to-heart conversation."

"Yeah, right on," Connie says. "Kinda' looks like you were picking up where you left off the other night," he teases.

Eren wiggles his eyebrows at Jean and Connie laughs. Jean's face flushes red. He flings Eren's hand off of him and picks his shirt up off the ground.

"What are you guys doing after this?" Connie draws his buzzing phone from his pocket.

"Uh...I'm meeting Armin after his show," Eren says. "But that's not till tonight."

"Yeah? You want to come to Parallax?" Connie taps out a quick text.

"Maybe," Eren says, pulling his clothes. He hasn't been to the indoor skate park in ages.

"Uh-oh," Connie says, looking at the screen. "You have to."

Eren looks confused.

"It's a medical emergency." Connie cracks a smile. "Ymir is literally dying of boredom!" Connie flashes the little screen at Eren. Eren smirks. "You wanna' come?" Connie asks Jean.

"Uh...no, I can't," he says, his face still red. "I told Marco I'd meet him for coffee."

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so hoping to update sooner. Luckily I have some long flights coming up, so hopefully I'll get a few more chapters out of that!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so hoped to update sooner, but...I hope you enjoy this cheesy chapter anyways. This chapter has some oblique mentions of blood, racial slurs, and eating disorders.

Ymir sits with Eren and Connie at the top of a tall ramp in the back of the warehouse-turned-skate park. An enormous speaker suspended by chains screens their conversation. She cracks open a tall, black can.

"What's that?" Connie leans over.

Ymir points to a giant banner on the wall. Reptilian eyes peek over a dark horizon. _Predator Energy Drink_ , it reads in scratchy letters. Connie peers at the top of the can. _Evil Island_.

"That's a flavor? I gotta try this," Connie says.

Ymir shrugs. Connie takes a sip and nearly spits the acrid drink all over Eren.

"Ymir, what the hell?" Connie wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

"Hey, it was only a dollar." She takes the can back from him and grins. "I'll buy you one if you want."

"Mm. I'm good." Connie leans back against the wall.

Eren takes a sip and smacks the roof of his mouth. "This might be good for...one thing only."

"What?" Ymir smirks.

"Vodka camouflage, and even then–"

"Man, Eren, you don't need any help breaking your neck." Connie says.

"Or maybe...cleaning car parts." Eren hands the can back to Ymir.

"You know, for someone with good taste in girls, you got shit taste in food," Connie says.

"Whatever." Ymir takes another sip. "I know what I like." Her smile is bright and wily, her brown eyes so light they almost look yellow.

Ymir is the only person Eren knows who bought her jeans without the holes already in them. The split knees have bitten this concrete floor many times. Perhaps the only other girl Eren knows who approaches her chosen sport with a fearlessness that borders on recklessness is Sasha: attempters of many jumps, landers of few. In the mornings, Ymir skates with the women's hockey club; a forward, like Eren and Connie.

Connie's phone buzzes in his pocket: a group message from Marco asking who wants to come to Armin's show on Friday night.

 _There is a big discount if you get ten tickets or more!!_ Marco wrote. _So I bought ten, who wants them?!?_

Connie laughs. "This guy, I tell you what."

Eren and Ymir lean in to see the screen. They're included in the conversation, but their phones blink in a locker by the door, spared the impact of the concrete.

 _Yessss_ , Sasha writes from the rink. _We should get food afterwards too!_

 _Good idea_ , Marco says. Then, _I want to make it a surprise for him so please do not tell him ok?_

"You ought to bring Krista to this," Connie says.

Ymir gives him a sidelong glance. "Another Nutcracker. Really." Krista has danced ballet since she could walk.

Connie shrugs. "Hell, I don't know, I'm just trying to help."

"I know." Ymir sinks back. Krista's become a rare fixture at evenings out, with the harshest curfews among their group of friends. "She'll come to see Armin, though."

"At least bring her to the dinner," Eren says.

Ymir lowers her head. "So she doesn't disappear?"

Eren takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know," Ymir says, looking into the dark can.

"It's gotten bad, hasn't it." Eren says.

Ymir nods.

"Her folks know about it?" Connie asks.

"I think they encourage it." Ymir says.

"Jesus. That sucks," Eren says.

Ymir sighs. "I don't know. Last time we went out, we got brunch with Armin and Annie. She seemed totally fine. Maybe you guys are a 'good influence.'" Krista's parents seem to think Ymir isn't one.

"Bring her," Connie says. "It'll be fun."

Eren tries to picture Armin's reaction to ten people from the rink coming to see the show he deliberately chose not to mention. Well, it'll be fun for Marco, at least.

"Eren? You in?" Connie nudges him.

"What? Oh. Yeah, totally."

**

Sasha laughs at her phone screen. Annie, Armin, and Mikasa lean over.

"Oh god, what is it now," Mikasa says.

 _Connie Springer was with Ymir Fritz and Eren Jaeger at Parallax Skate Park_. In the video, Ymir slides off a low rail and somersaults onto the ground so she doesn't fall on her face. She sits up and makes devil horns with her hands to cheers from the room. Then Eren plows straight into her.

"Oh my god, is she ok?" Armin leans closer.

"I think so, everyone's laughing," Mikasa says.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time Eren sent somebody to the hospital," Annie says.

"Wait—you weren't kidding about that?" Armin draws back. "The whole El Diente thing?"

"Eh, sort of," Annie says. "Like I think during the games, you know, people get hurt, that's just kind of part of it; it's more like, how he plays—"

"But there was that incident last year," Mikasa says.

"Some guy who played for Trost kept giving Connie hell about being the only black guy on the team," Sasha says, her voice low. "Eren told him to shut up, and when he didn't...he took a stick to his face. This guy's got six fake teeth now, or so I hear."

Armin crosses his arms and contracts. "Holy shit. They didn't expel him?"

"No, neither of them," Mikasa says. "But keep in mind...this guy'd been calling Eren a 'terrorist' for months."

"Wait, really?" Annie says. "I never heard about that part."

"Yeah, I think him making digs at Connie was the final straw," Mikasa says.

Ok, well, maybe he has more restraint than I thought, then, Armin thinks.

"They kicked this other guy off the team, so he switched schools," Mikasa says. "Eren got suspended for the next five games, but he says it was worth it."

Armin wonders if Eren ever planned to tell him about this.

"Where'd he transfer to?" Sasha asks.

"Stohess, I think," Annie says. "Far north side, near Evanston."

Sasha's phone chimes again. Eren, Connie, Ymir, and Mina have all signed on for Friday. She grins from ear to ear.

"What?" Armin asks.

"Oh. Nothing. Just a text from Connie," she says.

**

Eren weaves through the crowd at Navy Pier. People waiting in line for hot chocolate brush fluffy snowflakes off of their shoulders. Children cling to the legs of actors in reindeer and snowman costumes, parents with iPhones at the ready. Music blares from speakers overhead, and strings of blinking lights glow gold and green.

Armin leaves his skates in the dressing room. Free from the weight of his backpack, he leaves to meet Eren in the glassed-in atrium at the end of the packed, massive food court. Perhaps later he'll introduce Eren to the rest of the cast. But not tonight.

The image of Eren brandishing a hockey stick like a weapon still flickers in Armin's mind. Surely, Armin thinks, if he were that volatile—or even dangerous—Mikasa would have said something. Wouldn't she? Armin stops for a moment, slouching as the cool night air hits his face. Don't romanticize it, he tells himself. Just because you wish someone would have stood up for you.

"So. How's it going with Armin?" Connie asked on the drive back.

Eren fought back his smile. "Uh...it's been...really good."

The slight crack in Eren's voice told Connie he didn't need to ask any more questions.

"Yeah...he's, uh...pretty great," Eren said. Pretty great? That's the best I can do?

Eren sank back in the passenger seat of Connie's jeep. Yes, he realized, because I can't say enchanting. I can't say mesmerizing. I can't say a ghost that follows me around every moment of the day. Every time I go somewhere, I wonder what he would think of it. Every time I talk to one of my friends, I wonder if Armin would like them. Every song I listen to, I wonder if he would like it. But it feels good; it feels like a warm coat I never want to take off.

"I'm...kind of obsessed with him," Eren said.

Connie laughed quietly to himself and nodded.

"What?" Eren rolled his eyes.

"Just funny to see you like this."

Eren drew his knees to his chest.

He spots Armin in the crowd and walks over. Ok, don't go thinking he's some god just because he sucked you off in a movie theater, Eren tells himself. Even if he was suspiciously good at it. Ah, but there's—well. There's that smile again. Ok, here we go, Jaeger; keep your head on straight.

Armin wraps his arms around Eren before either of them can say anything, crushing the air out of their heavy coats.

"Nice to see you, too," Eren says into Armin's ear. He kisses Armin's cheek.

Armin laughs and rests his chin on Eren's shoulder. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he sighs.

Eren steps back, takes Armin's face in his hands, and kisses him.

"Your hair's damp," Eren says as he draws back.

"Oh. Yeah, I washed the gel out."

"You could have left it," Eren says. He reaches for Armin's hand and they walk toward the exit. "I mean, I liked it how you had it in the photos."

"Yeah, I just...kind of don't want to be recognized," Armin says with a shrug.

That's when Eren notices the ten-foot banner for Mitras Ice Ballet with an image of Armin lifting Daniela into the air. "Too many girls want your autograph?"

Armin smiles at the ground.

"I could be your bodyguard, you know," Eren says.

Armin laughs. "Great. I can use you as bait. Get them all to go running after you instead."

Eren chuckles. He's always used his potential attractiveness to girls as a gauge for his actual attractiveness to guys. "How was your show?"

"It was fine, we had fun," Armin says. "I kind of, uh...needed something to repair my self-esteem after conditioning with Mikasa, though." He hangs his head. "Remind me to never do that again."

"Oh god, let me guess, she was doing her one-armed push-ups again."

"Yeah...and then Annie came in, and you know...they are just...Man, they are something else." In theory, Armin takes no issue with powerful women. Still, this is a sore spot.

"Tell me about it." Eren, without realizing it, squeezes Armin's hand a little tighter.

Armin cracks a smile. "In a fight between the two of them, who do you think would win?"

"Oh. Shit. Good question." More visitors stream in as they get closer to the park at the entrance to the pier, some wearing glow sticks and neon-colored furry boots. "You know...I'd think it'd take about three straight days, and they'd both be dead at the end. I don't think you could even say. Honestly I'm still waiting for Annie to pull a Tonya Harding on somebody."

Armin laughs. "Oh come on, she's kind of sour, but she's not that evil, right?"

"Yeah, well, that depends on who you ask." Eren smirks. "You know she and Mikasa used to hate each other as kids."

"Really? What changed?"

Eren shrugs. "All their friends are friends, that's most of it. Plus I always knew Mikasa was into girls." He squints. "I think they figured out they could be more evil as a unit than on their own."

Armin recoils a little; is it just these two that go out of their way to make fun of him? Or is this Eren's default reaction to women?

"Ymir says hi, by the way." Eren almost mentions Friday. He catches himself.

Right, Ymir. Armin remembers she and Eren go way back.

"You cheated, you know," Armin says.

Eren's eyes widen. "Wait, what?"

"On the bruise contest." Armin turns to him.

Eren laughs. "Oh. Yeah...today was...not my finest moment." He pulls Armin to him again and notices a banner for the indoor rave: _Snowblind Winter Music Festival_. "Ohh. That explains all the neon."

Armin turns around and looks up. "Yeah, that's why our show was earlier tonight. Why, you want to go?" He flashes a devilish grin.

Eren freezes, then shuts his eyes. "I can't even imagine how drunk or how high I'd have to be to dance in front of you," he says quietly.

Armin squeezes him. "Oh, come on." He runs his hand through Eren's hair, a few snowflakes melting on his fingers. "This is just the jumping and flailing around kind anyways."

"Do you actually want to go?" Eren's voice squeaks a little.

"What? No." Armin laughs and lets Eren go.

"What do you want to do?"

"Um..." Armin scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know," he says. "Is that bad? Is that boring...?"

"Are you kidding?" Eren sticks his head out. "Armin. I just like being in the same room as you."

Armin's shoulders drop with relief.

Eren smiles. "Hey, how about this. I dare you to bore me. I bet you can't do it." It feels strange to name your fears out loud, Eren thinks, feeling so unremarkable compared to shining, accomplished Armin.

"I just wish I weren't so busy," Armin says, wishing he'd made plans.

"Don't worry about it," Eren says. "I wanted to come see you." He puts his arm around Armin's waist and pulls him closer as they walk.

"I do want to get out of here, though," Armin says.

"Aw, you don't just love Navy Pier?"

"Oh my god. This place is tacky as hell."

"If it weren't for you guys and the Shakespeare theater, it'd be hopeless," Eren says as they pass the box office.

"I never understood why that was here, of all places," Armin says. "That and the public radio station."

"Eh, you know. They gotta inject a little class into it somehow. Keep it from being a total tourist trap."

Armin leans into Eren. When he could clearly establish where they were, Armin relished going on long walks through unfamiliar cities with Marco and their other friends in the company, just talking. Armin hopes Eren likes it, too.

"So where we headed?" Eren asks.

"Um, west? I don't know, it's nice out, let's just walk."

"Nice?" Eren recoils. "It's snowing!"

"Yeah, but it's...the nice kind of snow."

"Ok, fair." Armin does have a point, Eren thinks. The air hovers just below freezing, with no wind to make it painful to be outside.

"I like it when it's like this," Armin says. "Like powdered sugar over everything."

"Of course you like winter, you're an ice skater."

"I like the other seasons, too," Armin says as they reach the Lakeshore bridge. "I guess...winter's just the kindest to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I get allergies in the spring. And I sunburn like crazy," Armin says.

Eren gasps and grabs Armin's shoulders. "I would never let that happen to you."

Armin rests his forehead on Eren's chest, grinning. "I bet you wouldn't."

"I could be your personal sunscreen...person," Eren says. "I don't know." God, he thinks, why do I say these stupid things around him?

Armin laughs and grabs Eren's hips. He has no doubts about Eren's ability to slather him in sunscreen. Eren kisses the top of his head.

The skyline disappears into low, thick, orange-glowing clouds. Eren and Armin walk from the lakeside path into the city. The main streets still teem with shoppers, the luminous stores all packed with bedraggled staff. The spindly trees lining the streets are all densely wrapped in light-covered cords, the little bulbs twinkle under the fresh coat of snow.

"Man, without Christmas, winter would suck," Eren says.

"Yeah, take away all the leaves, replace them Christmas lights...it's all so fake, but I like it anyways," Armin says.

As they walk, they tell each other stories. Armin tells Eren about his first visit to Chicago as a child. His grandfather moved after his grandmother passed away; the old house in Michigan had become too empty. Armin's neck had hurt from looking up at all the tall buildings. Eren, without realizing it, reaches up to stroke the back of Armin's neck.

Eren talks about his friends, harder to make when he was younger. Grisha signed him up for pee-wee hockey and prayed. He's played on teams with Connie since the beginning; even with Ymir in the recreational leagues until they were thirteen and the club bylaws about gendered teams kicked in. The first thing Eren did when he finally got his driver's license was bring a caravan out to see her in the statewide women's tournament in Champaign.

Eren stops when they reach the river. In the center of the bridge, he draws his long-ignored phone from his pocket and finds the camera. He drapes a possessive arm around Armin. "Photo?"

The little flash stings Armin's eyes, but he smiles at the effect. "Hey, that's—that's really good." He pulls the phone from Eren's hands.

"Any photo you take is good, come on. Anyways, now I have your soul, so thanks." Eren takes his phone back. "Can I, um...can I post it?" Please say yes. Please, Eren thinks. Normally I wouldn't show off so flagrantly, but the chance to one-up Jean is too good to pass up.

"Sure," Armin says.

Eren feels his phone buzz in his pocket with what he's sure are comments. He decides to wait to check them. He laughs again when they reach Millennium Park.

"What?" Armin asks.

"Nothing."

"Oh come on."

"No, it's dumb."

"Eren."

He nods toward the outdoor skating rink. "You want to go ice skating?" People lean around the fence, watching.

Armin rolls his eyes, then freezes. He cocks his head and a grin spreads across his face. "Have you ever worn figure skates?"

"Oh my god...not since the first time I ever went skating," Eren says. "I think I was like, four? I uh, didn't get real far." He turns to Armin. "Why? When was the last time you put on hockey skates?"

"Oh, gosh. I think I was five or six."

The boys look at each other and smile.

**


	20. Chapter 20

"Oh my god," Eren groans as he pulls on the laces of the skates. "Are they supposed to be this tight?"

"You got the right size, didn't you?" Armin looks concerned, and it makes Eren feel suddenly guilty.

"Oh. Yeah. I did. I'm just complaining," he says. "Ugh, seriously though. I tried on a pair of Ymir's heels once—"

"Wait," Armin says. "Ymir owns heels?"

"They were for prom—"

"And you tried them on?"

Eren thinks Armin's laugh is one of the finest things he's ever seen. "Well, yeah, I mean...I was curious..."

"You have the same size feet as Ymir?" Now Armin's face is flushed from laughing.

"Well, she's technically taller than me..." Eren crosses his arms. "So. How you doing over there?"

Armin shrugs. "I think I have bedroom slippers with more ankle support than this."

"Hah. Fair," Eren says. "You ready?"

"Sure."

Eren walks like a confused baby flamingo still getting used to its legs. He isn't used to having his weight pitched so far forward onto the balls of his feet. There is nothing elegant about it, with none of the concentrated fierceness of his playing style, either. Armin finds it touching. When everyone tries so hard to save face, it means a lot to be willing to look like an idiot.

"God, they're so...pointy," Eren says. The toe picks catch the rubber floor tiles on the way to the rink outside. "You could kill somebody with these."

"You can't take them through airport security anymore," Armin says. "So...yeah, I guess, they're technically considered weapons." Armin always felt a tremendous relief when his bag appeared on the airport conveyor belt.

"Somebody needs to make that movie," Eren says as the cool air hits them again. "A team of skaters hijacks a plane..." He turns to Armin, eyes wide. "You could be in it."

"Oh, god. No. I've never been good at acting."

"Then at least be on the poster," Eren says with a grin.

Armin rolls his eyes. His stance is awkwardly wide and low in the hockey skates. "I feel like a giant about to kick over a building."

Eren laughs. "If you had to destroy a city, what would it be?"

Armin looks at Eren. "What kind of a question is that?"

Eren's face flushes and his stomach drops.

"Psh. Gary, Indiana," Armin says, cracking a little smile. "Always hated that place." Eren smiles back, and for a moment, everything is perfect.

**

Music blares from speakers overhead. A DJ booth is hung with banners from a local pop station. A crowd in puffy coats putters its way around the busy rink, the snow still drifting over them.

"Oh-kay. Here we go." Eren steps cautiously onto the ice.

"You got it?" Armin asks.

Eren nods vigorously. "Oh yes. I am the epitome of grace. Look at me go." He drifts forward a few inches. "Yeah, that's right."

"Oh shit," Armin says. He holds his arms out to balance. His breath is fast and shallow.

"What?" Eren turns around. He turns too quickly and almost loses his balance.

The rounded ends of the hockey skates threaten to send Armin falling either forward or backward. "Oh my god, these blades are so short...and these skates are so flat...I'm gonna fall—"

"I got you." Eren scoots over and catches Armin's wrist. "You know, I think if you were worried about people recognizing you," Eren says as Armin wobbles slowly forward, "they're um...probably not gonna look at you and think, 'yeah, I bet this guy is the Nutcracker.'"

"Shut up," Armin says.

"They're gonna' look at you, but not because of that," Eren says.

Armin shakes his head.

Eren laughs and trips over his own feet. His wrists smack the ice. "Fuck," he mutters.

Armin trips over him, unable to stop. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry." He pushes himself up, the ice slick beneath his hands.

"It's ok." Eren smiles, pulls him back down, and kisses him.

Armin pulls back quickly. He doesn't want to. "We're gonna make more people trip." He grips the wall next to them and hoists himself up. He reaches for Eren and pulls him to his feet.

Eren clings to the wall. "Uh-oh," he says. "I'm going to start having flashbacks. I haven't had to hold onto the wall like this since I was a little kid."

"I better distract you, then." Armin leans in and kisses him again, out of the way.

"Mm. It worked." Eren says, his eyes still closed. "Ok," he opens them again, determined. "Are we doing this? We're doing this." He steps out from the wall and takes a few puny strokes.

Armin laughs. "Looking good."

Eren nods. "Your turn."

"Oh god. Ok. Here we go." He struggles to keep his balance, every fiber of muscle trying to center him over the arches of his feet, fighting their years of training.

Eren reaches out. Armin grabs his hand again. They promptly collapse.

**

"Jesus." Eren winces. "I forgot how much it hurts to fall without any pads."

Armin helps him up again. "Yeah, we're hardcore like that." They've managed an entire lap and a half around the rink without falling. Their new record.

"I'm calling it a draw," Eren says.

"What?"

"Bruise contest."

"Oh. Right." Armin strokes back over to the wall, his feet finally obeying. He sighs.

"You ok?" Eren joins him.

"I need to hang out with you some time when I'm not so wiped out," Armin says. His body burns from the day's conditioning. The fresh bruises sting. The adrenaline rush of falling over and over makes him feel awkwardly hollow. It's worth it, for the excuse to laugh, to cling to Eren.

Eren looks around. "You want to go get some hot chocolate?"

"What? Oh. No," Armin says.

Eren gives him a look.

"I'm good," Armin says.

"But you get a candy cane in it."

"Ok," Armin says, looking at the ice.

They sit on a bench near the café. Snowflakes vanish into the steaming surfaces of their drinks.

"You think maybe you're doing too much?" Eren asks.

"I don't know," Armin says. He hadn't planned on wanting to spend so much time with someone else so soon, on top of skating. "Levi asked me that the other day. Maybe he's right." Armin warms his hands on the cup. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of ready for the show to be over."

"Yeah?"

Armin looks into the drink again. "I wanted to do it so badly as a kid, I knew I'd be good at it, and my friends were all in it," he says. "But most of them are gone except Daniela. And it's not that it's not fun, it's just—"

"Not as great as you hoped it would be?"

"I guess. I almost don't even want to say it, though." Armin swirls the quickly-dissolving peppermint stick around. "It's part of why I want to compete more. I mean, I like performing, but I just...want to move on to something else, at least for a while."

"Something more challenging?"

"Yeah, maybe. Challenging in a different way."

Eren sips his drink. It burns his mouth. He drinks it anyway. "Seems like Levi pushes Mikasa to her limits. Does he do that to you too?"

"Sometimes," Armin says. He rests his head on Eren's shoulder.

When the styrofoam cups are empty, they begin their slow walk back. Eren wonders why Armin left his coat unzipped. A block from the entrance to Armin's building, out of sight of the chatty, nosy doormen, Armin reaches for Eren and embraces him again. Eren slips his arms inside Armin's open coat, happy to be that much closer.

**

"You're back late," Armin's grandfather says, not concerned, just amused. The white cat's fur looks blue in the light from the TV.

"Yeah, I uh...met up with a friend after the show."

"I see. Where'd you go?"

He can't say they went ice skating. He can't say that in all his years of skating, it was some of the most fun he's ever had on the ice. "Uh, we just hung out. Walked around." See, Armin thinks; I have friends. I can be social. I'm not some shut-in. "It's been nice out."

Armin's grandfather nods. "Enjoy it while you can, supposed to be another cold snap next weekend."

The cat follows Armin into his room. He lies down on the bed and looks at the photo Eren took on the bridge. Marco left another string of emoji Armin doesn't have the energy to decode. _I miss your FACE_ , Elin wrote. _You are taunting me! Aaaaagh can't wait to see you_.

He sets the phone on the night table and falls asleep in his clothes with the lights still on, the cat curled up in the center of his chest.

 

**

The last seat on the bus to the Sunday afternoon game against Stohess is the one next to Jean. He leans against the window, eyes shut, headphones in. Eren plops down next to him. He plucks out his earbuds.

"You talked to your folks?" Eren asks.

Jeans glances around. "Uh. Yeah, actually."

"Wait, seriously?"

Jean scowls.

"I thought you were never gonna do it," Eren says.

"Well I didn't...plan to..."

Eren looks quizzical.

Jeans sinks deeper into the seat and takes a deep breath. "My mom found a condom wrapper in the car."

Eren starts to sputter out a laugh. Jean's withering glare shuts him up.

"What the hell...man, that is...fuck. Dude, that's rough."

Jean plants his forehead against the back of the seat in front of them.

"How the hell did you leave that in the car—"

"I thought we got rid of them all!" Jean growls.

"Them all?" Eren cocks an eyebrow. "The hell have you been doing with Marco?"

Jean groans and leans back again. He looks up at the ceiling of the bus.

"What'd your mom say?" Eren asks.

"Oh, she tried to act like she wasn't upset," Jean says. "She was saying, 'if you're seeing someone, you should invite her to dinner,' and all this kind of thing, and eventually I just had to be like, 'Mom. It's a guy.'"

"Shit," Eren says.

Jean shakes his head. "And then she asks me, 'have you ever been with a girl?' and I'm like, 'No,' and then she gets this weird look on her face, and I have to tell her, 'what, it's not like I wasn't interested,' and she says," Jean's voice gets higher and shriller, imitating his mother, "'I just don't know who would ever turn down my Jean-Bo,' and then I think she thinks I hooked up with a guy because I couldn't get a girl to date me?"

Little snorts of breath erupt from Eren as he tries not to laugh.

"So I'm like, 'Mom, give me a break,' and then she's all upset that she didn't know this about me?" Jean throws his hands up. "Like she should have been able to tell, or figure it out? And then she wants to know why I never told her and I'm just like," Jean shakes his head, "In what universe does that make sense? We never talk about this kind of thing. We didn't even have the birds and the bees conversation, for Christ's sake. She gave me a fucking book to read. I'm like, you send me to Catholic school for eight years and it's not like they ever say it out loud, 'Oh, hey, you know, if you jerk off, Jesus is watching you and you will go blind—"

"Jean?"

By now the whole bus has turned around and is listening in. Jean goes silent for a second. The others go back to their conversations, smirking.

"But it's just..." Jean's voice is lower. "We never talk about it. So how can I even know what they think about this kind of stuff? I just..."

"So...is she ok with it?" Eren asks.

Jean shrugs. "I guess? I told her not to tell my dad. She said she wouldn't." Jean looks defeated. "And then she's all 'Well I just want you to be happy,' and 'I'm glad you're being safe,' and I think she's just telling me what she thinks I want to hear, like I don't even know if she means it, or she could just about burn down the church with all the candles she lit praying for my soul."

"She must mean it."

Jeans rolls his eyes.

"Jean, come on," Eren says. "I know your mom. She's like, the most smothering person—"

Jean flinches.

"I just mean she's very loving!" Eren says. "I mean, yeah, maybe it's a shock, but you don't think she'll get over it?"

"God, Eren, I don't fucking know."

"Like it sounds like she was more upset that you didn't tell her."

"But that's the thing," Jean says. "I'm like, you know, if you clutch your pearls too hard, you're gonna' break the strand, right? I don't want to freak her out, I'm not gonna' tell her about this. Besides," Jean says, "it's none of her business anyway." He rubs his temples. "And now she wants to meet Marco."

This time Eren cackles. "Don't. Don't do it. Don't invite him over."

Jean looks confused.

"Oh don't get me wrong. Your mom's gonna love Marco. In fact she's probably going to want to adopt him. I just mean, don't do that to Marc and Paul."

"Do what?"

Eren grins slyly. "Make them question themselves."

Jean nearly shoves Eren off the seat.

"What?" Eren says, laughing. "You know I'm right! Marco's like, he's like some kind of magic unicorn, right? Like he could just wave his hands over a person and they would turn gay—"

"Shut up, Eren."

"Oh, I get it," Eren says. "I get what this is about. You don't want your mom to embarrass you in front of Marco."

Jean turns to Eren very slowly.

"Actually, now that I think about it," Eren says, "Marco's probably gonna like your mom so much he'll want to come over just to hang out with her."

"Do you ever. Just. Shut. Up."

"Do you ever just relax?" Eren says.

"You know what, it's always easier to talk about when it's not you, huh?" Jean pokes Eren in the ribs. "How's it going with Armin? Huh? I see the way you get all slack-jawed around him—"

"Don't bring Armin into this," Eren whispers.

"I'd be cute if it weren't so goddamn pathetic—"

"Did you just call me cute?" Eren leans over.

"Shut up, Eren." Jean reaches for his water bottle and unscrews the cap.

"How does he even put up with you," Eren says.

Jean scoffs. "Well it's not like I talk to him like this—"

"What do you even talk about?" Eren asks.

"We talk about a lot of things!" The look of pain on Jean's face is the most genuine Eren has seen on him yet. Talking to Marco, Jean discovered, was like dancing with a way more experienced partner leading. Awkward at first, but eventually graceful once they fell into a rhythm.

"I just think you ought to be happy," Eren says. "Cause you're clearly an asshole, and he clearly likes you anyways. I mean, that's just some unconditional love kind of shit right there, man. You ought to soak that up."

Jean sinks his head to his chest.

"Come on, man," Eren says. He glances around the bus. "Everyone here is on your side. Hell, even I'm on your side, and I think you're a huge fucking tool."

The bus hits a pothole and water spatters Jean's face. He blinks for a second and wipes it with his sleeve.

"Your folks will come around," Eren says. "I know they will. Your mom's gonna fall in love with Marco, and then she can talk anyone into anything. You're gonna be all right."

Jean's body is stiff. On the one hand, he wants Eren to be right. On the other, he hates giving Eren the satisfaction of being right.

The bus turns off of the highway. Connie and Marlowe peer over the edge of the seat.

"Hey-yo," Connie says. "You guys ready?" Nothing like a common enemy to unite them all.

"Man, I don't even fucking care if we win," Eren says. "I just want to kick Jonas's ass again."

Connie gives him a fist bump. He gives Jean one, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any of my readers who might happen to live in Gary, Indiana. And also for taking so long to update this thing.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren gets an unpleasant surprise. To help him cope, Mikasa invites him and Armin to Spa Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a silly, all-over-the-place chapter to get this thing started again. Post-hiatus I have a much better idea of how I want to weave the end of this together. Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience during the break!

When Armin gets back from his Sunday evening show, he walks into the apartment without turning on the lights. He stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window over the lake and listens to the silence. He watches the dark. The cat rubs against his leg and he picks her up. Each individual muscle of his body seems to be vying for his attention: we’re tired. We hurt.

He texts Eren, the screen of his phone alarmingly bright in the dark. _How was your game?_

There’s no answer. Armin lies on the couch and falls asleep with the cat next to him. When his grandfather gets home and remarks on the darkness, there’s still no answer. Still nothing when Armin properly gets ready for bed. He sets the alarm for 6 AM and tries again. _Hey, everything ok?_

A little past midnight, Armin rolls over and sees the tiny status light blinking. _They took Rose away_ , Eren wrote ten minutes prior.

 _I thought she wasn’t leaving until next week_ , Armin writes, his eyesight slightly blurry.

 _That’s what I thought too_  
_The family was here when I got back from my game_

_Why did they come early?_

_i don’t know_  
_family in town_  
_holiday stuff_  
_?_

Armin sees the little floating dots. Eren keeps typing.

 _I feel like an asshole_  
_like when I saw these parents_  
_they were so happy_  
_seeing their kid interact with Rose_  
_apparently she never does that_  
_like talk much or interact I mean_  
_they were just totally overjoyed_  
_meanwhile I’m just mad and i want my dog back_

 _sorry_ , Eren adds.

 _Are you ok?_ Armin asks.

There’s a long pause.

_No._

_Can I call you?_ Armin writes.

_No it’s late_   
_You have to deal with Levi_   
_You should sleep_

_Not even five minutes?_

_I don’t want you to hear what I sound like right now_ , Eren says.

 _I promise I don’t care_ , Armin types. He calls Eren anyway. It rings several times before Eren picks up.

“Hey,” his voice is nasal from crying.

“Hey, I figured five minutes couldn’t hurt,” Armin says.

“Yeah,” Eren says, collecting himself. “Thanks.”

“After that I have to let you go so you can sleep. You have to ‘pick up Mikasa’ in the morning right?” Armin hears Eren chuckle a little on the other end of the line, and it makes him feel relieved.

“If you weren’t going to be there, I’d just let her walk home from the rink in the snow,” Eren says.

“Wow, you are upset.”

“It just feels stupid.”

“What?” Armin asks.

“To be upset about it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Eren groans.

“Eren, you love that dog, why wouldn’t you be upset?”

“I don’t know, I mean, I knew this was going to happen, since we got her—“

“So?”

Eren heaves a long sigh.

“I mean, the animals I had when I was a kid were my best friends.” Armin thinks of the hutch of rabbits, the cat, the tiny parakeets.

“Yeah, but that was when you were a kid,” Eren says.

“Oh sorry, I forgot. You’re too old for feelings.” There’s a moment of silence. “I can hear your eyes rolling through the phone.”  
Eren laughs out loud this time. “Damn. I try to be sneaky—“

“I know,” Armin says. “Listen, if I were you, I would be upset, too.”

“I’m so pissed at my parents,” Eren confesses. “I thought they were going to tell me. And then I got home and the whole family’s there and I couldn’t say anything, right? I just like had to watch them take her away…”

Armin senses Eren might cry again. “Wow, that…that really sucks.”

“It’s so quiet here,” Eren’s voice is weak and flat. “She would make all these weird little noises, you know? And like, her nails on the floor…”

“Yeah,” Armin says. Now is not the time to admit he didn’t like the dog that much. “That’s got to be weird.”

Eren groans again. “I should let you go.”

“Yeah. It’s ok.”

“I’m glad you called me, though,” Eren says.

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Wait, when am I going to get to see you after that?”

“Uh…Elin’s supposed to get in tomorrow night,” Armin says. “She’s leaving Thursday. You want to do something Friday?”

“Yeah, like after your show? If it’s not too late?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Armin says. There’s no way he won’t be exhausted after another week of shows and entertaining Elin. Even if all he can do is fall asleep in Eren’s lap, he doesn’t care. “Ok. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

“I—“ Armin catches himself. He realizes he’s about to say ‘I love you,’ the way he would to one of his parents or Elin if they were worried about something. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“I know. It’s ok,” Eren says. He pauses. “It’s nice to hear your voice. I don’t know. It just sounds nice, over the phone.”

“Thanks,” Armin says, smiling so wide his face hurts. “Good night, Eren.”

 

**

Eren did the best he could to be polite while the Rheinbergers claimed Rose. As soon as they left, he walked straight upstairs to his room. He did not speak to anyone.

Carla knocked on the locked door. No answer. She tried several more times. “Eren, honey, there’s food for you in the fridge downstairs, ok?” Eventually she gave up.

When Eren gets off the phone with Armin, he cracks open the door to his room as softly as he can and sneaks downstairs to retrieve the food. He sees Mikasa’s silhouette against the refrigerator light and freezes.

“What are you doing down here?” His voice isn’t sounding much better.

“Just getting water,” she says. She glances at him. “You’ve looked better.”

Eren’s posture slackens. “Shut up, Mika.” He pushes past her and grabs his plate of leftovers.

“Eren. Hey. I’m sorry,” she says. She gives him a hug.

Eren sets down the plate and hugs her back. It feels strange. As little kids they would hug each other all time, or hold hands. The older they got, the more their interactions became a sort of indifferent tolerance. This time Eren does start crying.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he says.

“I won’t. I mean it.” And Eren believes it, and that surprises him, too. Mikasa sits with him as he eats. “You should come to spa night tomorrow,” she says.

“To what?”

“Spa night. Annie, Bert, Reiner, and I get together at Annie’s dad’s house, like once a month—“

“Wait. How long have you been doing this?”

Mikasa shrugs. “A year or so?”

“And you never told me?”

“I mean, I didn’t think you wanted to hang out with Annie and paint your nails,” she says.

“Yeah. Ok. That’s fair.” Now that Eren thinks about it, of all the guys on the team, Bert and Reiner have remarkably clear skin. So. That’s their secret.

“But yeah,” Mikasa says. “You should come.”

“Thanks.” They grin at each other for a moment. Eren hangs his head over his food, and Mikasa sips her water.

**

Eren no longer feels the cold in the Iceplex parking lot. Armin parks across from him and gets out; Eren walks over to him and puts his arms around him.

“Why is your hair damp?” Eren asks. He brushes it out of Armin’s eyes again.

“I overslept a little.” Armin feels Eren start to contract. “Not because of you!” Armin pulls himself closer to Eren and kisses him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a big pile of shit,” Eren says. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Well, I hope so.” Armin smiles and Eren does feel better.

The nearly empty rink belongs to them. Eren carries Armin’s bag and walks with his arm around Armin’s waist.

“I should get my skates on,” Armin says. Eren nods. “You want to come with me?” Armin asks, grinning.

“Sure,” Eren says. He sits next to Armin in the mirror-image locker room. It sure smells a lot better than the one the hockey players use, even after its extensive nightly cleaning. This strikes Eren as unfair. “Armed and dangerous,” Eren says as Armin finishes lacing up.

Armin shakes his head. He snaps the black plastic guards over his blades. When he stands up, he’s exactly the same height as Eren.

“I like those pants you always wear,” Eren says.

Armin smiles. “I figured. I have looser ones, you know—“

“No,” Eren says. “Please.”

Armin laughs. Eren steps forward and gently pins Armin between himself and the lockers behind him, kissing him.

Levi flings the door open and walks right past them as if they’re not even there.

“We should go,” Armin whispers. Eren nods and holds his hand as they walk back out into the rink where Mikasa stands waiting, looking at her phone.

**

“Hey. What’s the matter?” Mikasa sits down next to Armin during their break in the afternoon session.

Armin looks at his phone with an expression of consternation. “My cousin’s supposed to come visit me,” he says. “But something came up and now she can’t make it until tomorrow.”

“There’s no show tonight, right?” Mikasa asks.

“No, why?”

Mikasa grins. “You want to come to Annie’s?”

 

**  
The hockey practices won’t start up again until the end of the winter break. Eren had grandiose plans to buckle down and study for finals. His exams run Wednesday to Friday. When he gets Mikasa’s text about Armin coming to spa night, he drops them in a heartbeat.

“Hey there, Mister Bean.” Mikasa leans down and picks up the plump orange tabby. Eren had forgotten that Annie and her father’s two cats were named Sonny and Bean. Bert nearly trips over Sonny trying to get a can of Coke from the fridge.

Annie grins at Eren and Armin. “Welcome,” she says. She crosses her arms. “Are you ready to relax?”

Armin gives her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

“That’s _right!_ ” She laughs. “Get a drink. Pick a mask. Pick a nail polish color. There are extra fuzzy socks on the table in the living room.”

“Man,” Armin says, looking through the bin of of colorful tubes and packets. “You guys go all out.”

“Where’s Reiner?” Eren asks. Bert points into the living room.

Reiner lies back on the couch, his face covered in a goopy pistachio-green mask. Two cucumber slices cover his eyes.

“Well somebody is feeling no pain,” Eren says. Reiner gives him a thumbs up.

“Reiner’s feeling very luxurious after our win last night,” Bert tells Armin. Eren had forgotten about it completely as soon as he got home.

“Sit,” Annie says to Eren. Towels lie draped over the carpet with basins of steaming water over them. She sits Eren down in an empty space on the couch and tells him to stick his bare feet in the water.

“Oh. Whoa,” Eren says. “That feels really good.”

Annie rips open a packet of coarse salts and pours it in the basin. She swirls them around. Armin sits next to Eren, his feet in a basin of his own. An episode of _Cosmos_ plays on the TV in front of them.

“You guys,” Armin says, “…this is really nice.”

Annie cocks an eyebrow and nods. Bert hands them each a fabric headband.

“Did you guys pick out masks?” Mikasa asks. She holds her hand out.

“Uh…yes,” Armin hands her a purple packet.

“Which one is that?” Eren asks.

“Oh. Lavender,” Armin says. “Which one did you get?”

“Apricot,” he says. He hands Mikasa his packet. “Wait, what are you doing with them?”

“They’re cold if you put them on right away,” she says. “I’ve got a hot towel from the microwave, I’m going to warm them up.”

Eren and Armin look at each other.

Bert puts on a headband of his own. He opens a plastic tube and squeezes out the same light green paste that Reiner has on his face, and smears it all over his own. He rinses his hands in a bowl and grabs two cucumber slices from a plate. “Scootch,” he says to Reiner. Reiner slides over and Bert sits right up next to him; all four of them just fit on the couch. Bert tilts his head back, lays the cucumbers on his eyes, and starts to doze off.

“You guys are intense,” Eren says.

“We never half-ass anything,” Reiner says.

“Why don’t you guys invite Sasha and Connie to this?” Eren asks.

“Because Sasha would eat everything in the house,” Annie says. “Don’t get me wrong, Sasha’s great,” she says to Armin.

Eren and Armin lay the thin gel sheet masks over their faces and laugh. “We look like burn victims,” Armin says.

“Uh, sexy burn victims,” Eren clarifies. Then, to his surprise, Annie reaches for his foot and begins to scrub it with a file. Eren nearly sloshes the water onto the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Pedicure,” she says.

“Oh no. My feet are really gross.”

“Yeah,” Annie says. “They’re supposed to be. They’re _feet_. That’s why we do this.”

Mikasa works on Armin’s. “Wait,” he says, “What about you guys?”

“Reiner did mine before y’all got here.” Annie holds her foot up. Her toenails are fluorescent pink.

“Bert’s doing mine later,” Mikasa says. Bert nods, his cucumber slices secure. Then Eren notices his and Reiner’s enormous toenails are covered in shimmery silver polish.

“You guys want polish, too?” Annie asks, egging them on.

“Sure,” Armin says. “Why not.”

“I don’t know,” Eren says.

“We could match,” Armin says.

Eren turns to him. “Ok, what color do you want?”

**  
The boys walk awkwardly through the kitchen to the bathroom with styrofoam dividers separating their toes. They opted for a deep navy blue. Eren’s feet have never felt so smooth. They feel like new feet.

Eren and Armin peel off the masks and rinse and dry their faces.

“Oh my god,” Eren says, looking in the mirror.

“What?”

“I’m beautiful.” Man, my skin never looks this good, Eren thinks. “Look at you, you’re glowing.” He kisses Armin’s cheek. Armin just laughs.

Eren’s never seen Bert handle anything so delicately as Mikasa’s foot as he paints her toes electric purple. He’s surprisingly good at this, Eren thinks. He never would have guessed.

Annie walks on Reiner’s back. He lets out satisfied groans into the carpet. They trade, and Reiner sets to work on the knots in Annie’s shoulders.

Mikasa’s phone chimes.

“No phone policy,” Annie says.

“Hang on, wait a second,” Mikasa says. “It’s from Sasha. She said she found…’Levi’s secret VK?’” She clicks and scrolls. “What the…oh my god, you guys have to see this.”

Annie grabs the phone and starts cackling. “That’s him. That has to be him.”

“What is it?” Armin looks over her shoulder. The phone screen shows a VKontakte page with photos of a sharp-faced, dark-haired man. The comments are all in Russian. Some photos have hundreds.

“What the hell is VK?” Eren asks.

“It’s like Russia’s Facebook wannabe,” Annie says.

In one photo, Levi stands completely expressionless in front of a penguin habitat at the aquarium. In another, he wears a pair of Mickey mouse ears, but the photo is cut off such that it ends below Levi’s eyes, and only gets the bottom half of his taller companion’s face. In the next, Levi holds a glass machine gun full of vodka, and ‘fires’ it at a man that can only be Erwin Smith.

“Holy shit,” Eren says.

It keeps going. There are many gym selfies, many shirtless, some in which Erwin is visible in the background. He balances on one hand, dancing on a bar with rainbow flags in the background. At a costume party, he wears a Cleopatra headdress, eyeliner, lipstick and all. In one image, Levi pretends to talk thoughtfully into a banana as though it were a phone.

“I am never going to be able to look at him the same way,” Armin says.

“What, you mean, as a person?” Mikasa laughs.

“He lied to me, you know,” Armin points at Mikasa. “He said he doesn’t do any social media.”

“Well, maybe not in English,” Annie says.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Armin says with mock distress. “Now that I know the whole stoic thing is just a facade.”

“Could you live with yourself if you were that stiff all the time?” Annie asks.

“No,” Armin says.

“Then there’s your answer,” she says.

“I guess.” Armin sits on the carpet with his back against the couch. Eren lays his head in Armin’s lap. Armin massages Eren’s hands, his wrists and forearms. He slides his hands underneath Eren’s neck and pulls his fingertips back in long, slow strokes, gently unraveling the tension in Eren’s shoulders and his scalp.

Eren wants to return the favor, wants to switch places with Armin and let his hands work on his body. But Armin’s so good at this. Why is it so hard, Eren thinks, just to let someone take care of you?

“Try to relax,” Armin says.

“I am trying,” Eren says. “It’s hard.”

“Ok, then, don’t try at all, and just let it happen.”

“I—ok. I’ll try.”

“I just told you not to try,” Armin says.

Eren groans.

Armin smiles and leans over him. He gives him an upside down kiss.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren dreads his upcoming week of exams without hockey, Rose, or Armin. Armin gets a lecture and a Christmas gift from Levi.

Armin lies back against the front of the couch, Eren's head is pleasantly heavy in his lap. He doesn't expect Eren's eyes to snap open and for Eren to grin and declare, "Your turn."

Eren tries to replicate Armin's careful movements. When he reaches Armin's back, he slows down. He pulls his fingertips up against the weight of Armin's body. He whistles. "You are made out of knots."

"Really?"

"You don't feel that?" Eren finds another one.

Armin winces as Eren digs his thumb into the little crackling adhesion.

"Sorry," Eren says.

"No, it's ok, it...feels good, actually." Armin takes a deep breath and lets Eren drag his hands along the fabric of his shirt in search of more points of tension.

The more Armin relaxes, the more powerful Eren feels, relieved to be useful, elated to do something that feels good.

"You train with Nanaba, don't you?" asks a mask-free Reiner.

"Yeah." Armin doesn't open his eyes.

"See if she can do a sports massage for you," Reiner says. "Even just ten or fifteen minutes on the chair. It'll help."

"I'll ask her," Armin says.

"You ever foam roll your shoulders?" Annie asks.

"Not often," Armin says. He gives his lower body way more attention.

"Give it a shot," Annie says. 'Sometimes you don't realize how much tension you can carry there."

I knew I was doing something wrong, Armin thinks. What else am I doing wrong?

**

"Hey, do you, uh, want me to drive you back?" Armin asks Eren as they step out into the snow.

Mikasa chuckles. "It's all right, I don't mind driving back. You should ride with Armin." She winks at Eren.

It's a shameless ploy, and Armin knows it, but Eren doesn't mind. Armin starts the car, turns the heat up, and leans across the console to kiss Eren.

"I wish I could just skip straight to winter break," Eren says.

"Yeah. I know." Armin backs out of the driveway.

"I'm jealous of you and Elin."

"Don't be, I think she's bored to tears these days."

"You guys know what you're going to do?" Eren asks.

"I'm not sure. She kind of likes to wing it." Armin shrugs. "Probably not Navy pier."

"Just don't go to the aquarium," Eren says.

"Wait, why not?"

"Because I want to take you," Eren says to the floor.

Armin laughs. "I can go twice, I love it there, you know."

"But it's not the same if you've just been."

"I'm pretty sure it'll be fine," Armin says. The streetlights make the falling snow look gold. "What do you want to do Friday night?"

"Oh, uh..." Eren scratches the back of his neck. "I was thinking we would just, you know, uh...get dinner? I mean, if you haven't already eaten..."

"I can wait to eat," Armin says. "Dinner sounds great. Unless...you want to go see another movie."

Eren suddenly wishes they'd scrapped the whole surprise idea all together. Please don't hate me, he thinks. "I can see what's playing."

"Does it matter what's playing?" Armin gives him a wily grin.

"Well...you know. Something loud enough."

Armin laughs and turns into Eren's silent neighborhood. He parks on the street and gets out with Eren. His coat lies on the back seat.

Eren gloms on to Armin and kisses him until he notices Armin start to shiver. "Sorry," he says.

"It's all right," Armin says. "I got distracted." He kisses Eren's cheek. "I'll see you Friday."

**

Armin expects to fall a few times as he works through Levi's choreography. He doesn't expect to fall warming up. He doesn't expect to fall doing only footwork. He pushes himself up off the ice, but doesn't get up. What is wrong with me, he asks himself.

Levi pulls out his remote and turns off the music. He skates over to Armin and reaches his hand out. Armin is alarmed at how easily Levi pulls him back to his feet.

"Arya, are you ok?" Levi asks.

"I'm just tired."

"Yes, but you say this often."

Armin tries not to roll his eyes at his coach. "It's not even seven thirty."

"I know. But you are saying this in the afternoons, too."

Armin grabs his water bottle from the side of the rink and sighs.

"When you are on your break," Levi says, "there is something I want you to do. I want you to go to your doctor, and test your blood. Because it may be there is some other reason you are tired, and not just because you are busy."

Armin nods. Levi's right. Armin silently prays he doesn't have some incurable disorder.

"Arya, we must be dedicated. But you cannot be dedicated if you are running on fumes, as they say."

All of Levi's other skaters are in normal schools, about to take exams and travel for the holidays. Levi himself is going to New York for an exhibition, and god knows what other mayhem, if his photo stream is any indication. Armin will practice and train on his own until after Christmas, when Levi gets back. January's qualifier feels dangerously close. Armin doesn't need Levi to tell him the program isn't ready.

He leans against the wall of the rink and lets out a little laugh. "What if I just can't do your program?"

Levi turns to him slowly. "This is the tired part of you that is talking." He crosses his arms. "You think that is true? You cannot do my program?"

"I don't know," Armin says.

"If you are going to compete, you must be able to do this. It does not get easier, Arya."

"I know."

"If I thought you cannot do this, I would tell you, just skate for Disney. Skate for the tours, or only for Mitras. Or go back to school. Live a normal life." Levi nods toward the bench, and he and Armin sit down. "But you know this. I do not waste my time." Levi opens his thermos of tea.

"What if this is it?" Armin says.

Levi shakes his head. "You have a limit. One day, you will reach it." Levi sighs, and Armin realizes he's never heard him do this. "Then, you will make a change."

Armin pulls his own tea from beneath the bench, more of Eren's cardamom. Levi had skated in two Winter Olympics. He had never placed. Armin tries to imagine the moment Levi knew, and changed his course.

"And that is when you will discover what kind of person you actually are," Levi says.

If Armin quits skating, all that's left is school. He has other interests. He could start over. But the feeling of emptiness, the gaping void that would be left by skating makes his chest feel like it's caving in.

"If you skate because you wish to avoid something, you will never avoid it," Levi says. "It will just wait for you, off the ice." He looks as if at an invisible figure on the other end of the rink. "One day, you will stop skating. Then, you will go do some other art." Levi shrugs. "It is not just your skating that is your art, Arya. It is everything. Everything you do. Never skate because you do not want to have your ordinary life. Skate because when you are on the ice, it gives you something. Something you bring back, to normal life."

Armin nods and stands back up.

"You are ready?" Levi puts the music back on.

Armin skates until the end of the session. He falls, but he falls less. The falls hurt. But he isn't as afraid of them.

When he emerges from the locker room, Levi waits for him in the lobby. Armin pulls an envelope from his backpack. "So, I wanted to give you this..." Inside is a card written in Armin's neatest handwriting, and a gift card to a group of Michelin-starred restaurants.

"Thank you, Arya. I have something for you as well." Levi hands him a sparkly blue bag with wispy, stylized reindeer on it. "Go ahead, you should open it."

Inside the bag is a white, square cardboard box. Armin opens it and laughs. He pulls out what looks like a simple, solid while coffee mug. But on the inside, a little ceramic penguin looks up at him with shiny eyes. "Oh...I really like it," he says.

Levi smiles. "Look, there is something more."

Armin reaches in the bag again and pulls out two passes to the aquarium.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor, neglected fic creeps on at a snail's pace forever. I hope it won't actually be Christmas by the time I finish it, but at this rate, who knows. As always, thanks for reading. Juicier chapters coming up soon, I hope.

When Armin gets home, he texts a photo of the little penguin in the coffee mug to Eren. _Look what Levi got me for Christmas_ , he types. _I got aquarium passes, too. Don't worry, I'm saving them so we can go._

He puts the kettle on the stove and makes himself a cup of penguin tea. When he looks at his phone again, Eren has sent back a string of exclamation points. 

 _Oh my god that's awesome_ , Eren wrote. _Hey aren't you with Elin?_

 _I'm just about to go pick her up_ , Armin writes. 

 _Nice. Have fun_ , Eren says. 

**

A wave of cold air hits Armin's face as he steps off the bus to Union Station. He doesn't have the inner fortitude to fight the parking lot. Armin weaves through the crowd in the enormous atrium, and looks for a familiar shock of blonde hair. Elin stands away from the crowd in a column of sun from the skylight above her, and it makes Armin grin. You're the weirdest Christmas angel I've ever seen, he thinks. Good tidings to me.

"Hey you," he says.

She turns around and her laughter fills the entire room. She throws her arms around him and kisses him on the cheek. "Armin! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you, you have no idea."

"How was your trip?" 

Elin holds up her book and grins. _The Essential Audre Lorde_. "Went by in a flash." She looks up at the ornamental ceiling. "Man, it's been ages since I've been here. Last time I saw grandpa was back in Michigan, and even that was like two years ago." She adjusts her backpack. "He's coming tonight too, right?"

"Yeah, I got him a comp ticket," Armin says. "But I couldn't get them in the same section."

"No worries."

"You still want to get pizza afterward?"

Elin gives Armin and incredulous look. "I'm so hurt that you even had to ask." She claps him on the back. 

Armin laughs. The line will be out the door for the pizza place they want to go to, even in the snow, but the cider and hot chocolate trucks will keep the crowds in check.

"You doing all right?" Elin asks him. "You look a little pale."

"More so than normal?" 

Elin shrugs. "Or just tired, I guess."

"I'm never not tired." Armin sighs.

"Doesn't that kind of go with the territory of being your age, though?" Elin says as if she's twenty years older, not two.

"I guess. Levi told me to see a doctor."

"Yeah, you probably ought to do that," Elin says.

Armin groans. They push open the heavy door to the street. "I know he's right, I just don't want mom, dad, and grandpa to worry about me." Or Eren, for that matter, Armin thinks. 

"Ugh. Yeah. I know what you mean. It's enough without having to deal with how they feel about it."

Armin shrugs. "I'll see. Maybe after you go back."

Elin squints. "Dude, I can hang out for an hour if you need to go sooner. Just do your thing."

Armin nods. He dreads making the appointment. Phone calls to strangers make him seize up and his blood turn cold. 

"How's it going with Levi anyways?" Elin asks.

Armin laughs. He decides not to mention the aquarium passes. "He is kicking my ass. I don't know how else to put it." He shakes his head. "It's like if the Red Army had a figure skating division."

"Hang in there," Elin says. "For glorious fatherland!" She makes a fist and shakes it at the sky.  

They get on their bus across town and Elin leans over. "Ok, so now for the really important stuff," she says. "You got to tell me more about this 'Eren' you've been talking about." 

Her smile is fox-like, and it makes Armin pause. Is that part of why I like him, Armin wonders? Because he reminds me so much of one of the people I care about the most? 

**

Eren rolls over on his mattress. He kicks the stack of textbooks onto the floor and reaches for his phone. It was early afternoon when the photos began to roll in, and they streamed in all night. Elin and Armin holding kimchi tacos stuffed to bursting. Elin and Armin at the Field Museum, doing impersonations of dinosaurs and taxidermied animals. Elin and Armin backstage at the ice ballet, Armin in his prince's jacket, with the women Eren recognizes as Rico and Daniela, and a white-haired man who could only be Armin's grandfather. Thn the three of them holding giant, stringy slices of pizza. They all look so much alike; Emil looks like Armin plus fifty five years, and the cousins look more like siblings, Eren thinks, both androgynous and elf-life. _Elin Nielsen was with Armin Arlert_ , and you were not. It's not fair. 

Envy makes Eren sick. No one likes exams. In a way, the constant updates were a nice escape from the cram-session, but Eren still wishes he could have been there. His eyes sting from hours of reading, his hand is cramped from copying so many outlines and notes. If he wants a hockey scholarship, he'll have to keep his grades up. Eyes on the prize, he tells himself. He looks at the cluster of trophies on top of his dresser. He doesn't need the scholarship. On his parents' dime, he can afford to go anywhere he gets in. What he wants is the feeling of accomplishment, of having earned something on his own merit, doing something no one else can do for him. 

If Eren gets what he wants, he'll spend most of his time doing what he does now, he realizes: playing hockey and studying, and it will all be harder at the college level. How does Armin fit into all of that, he wonders. He feels a twinge of shame. You don't even know where you're going to be in college, he thinks; you could be anywhere. If Armin gets what he wants, Eren realizes, he'll spend his time training and traveling, and who knows where? Even touring could take him anywhere. Come off it, Eren tells himself. You can jump of that bridge when you get to it. You have at least two years left in Chicago, and Armin just got started here. 

I just want to be alone with him again, Eren thinks. He could kick himself for going along with Marco's surprise idea; everyone will be there. Eren doesn't want to be a jealous, controlling creep. But he still wants Armin to himself. He scrolls through the day's photos of Armin again. He has 'liked' them all. Without the dog, the silence is deafening.

 _Can't wait to see you Friday_ , Eren texts Armin.

There's a knock at the door. Mikasa cracks it open. "Hey," she says. "You want to help me with Spanish?"

Thank god, Eren thinks. A proper distraction. 

**

"Man, the view from here is kind of creepy," Elin says. She stands in her long bathrobe and pajama pants at the window of Emil's apartment. 

Armin walks over with the cat. "Yeah. I thought so too."

They sit on the couch and turn on the TV, the volume low so as not to wake their grandfather.

"It's weird to not have to get up early tomorrow," Armin says. 

"Honestly, you look like you need a break." Elin says. The cat climbs into her lap.

"Why did I decide to do this," Armin mutters. He tilts his head back and shuts his eyes.

"Do what? Come to Chicago?"

"Do a sport where I travel all the time."

Elin glances at him. "Because you kick ass at it, and it's fun. At least it used to be. Why? You having doubts?"

"I never stay anywhere long enough to make friends," Armin says. 

"I thought you had your China friends," Elin says.

"Yeah," Armin says. "In China."

"Well you never really did like to deal with people," Elin says. "So I'm not really surprised."

Armin sighs deeply. 

"It's easier than running away, isn't it. Traveling," she says.

"Yeah."

"You feeling like you want to stick around for a while?"

Armin shrugs. "I like Eren's friends," Armin says. "I don't know, they just kind of like, instantly accepted me, like I belonged with them."

"Anyone who doesn't accept you is homophobic, insecure, or dumb. You know that, right?"

"Somehow I seem to forget that until you tell it to my face," Armin says.

Elin grins. "That's what I'm here for."

It's not just the smile and the demeanor they have in common, Armin thinks. It's that feeling of belonging. I never got it anywhere but Elin's house and on the ice. Is it really Eren you want, Armin asks himself, or just that feeling of belonging? No, he thinks. Eren cooks Turkish food and dreams about dolphins in Spanish. Eren bit the ice in figure skates and laughed it off. Eren is grieving a dog. 

Armin's phone chimes in the pocket of his robe. He takes it out and smiles.

"I bet I know who that's from," Elin says. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren survives his week of finals and heads back to Navy Pier to surprise Armin.

This is maddening. There's supposed to be a dog here.

Eren has one final left, one last hurdle to jump before Winter Break begins. The biology final is Friday morning at 9:00, and it stares Eren down like a golem.

Eren flicks to the next page of his textbook and sighs. Snow hovers in the dark air outside. Annie sits next to Mikasa on the couch opposite him. The one class they all have together is biology. Don't be mad that Annie and Mikasa are better at bio than you are, Eren tells himself. They're better than you at most things. Except hockey. But we've never seen them try.

Eren throws his head back and groans. It's not fair that Mikasa has somebody to cuddle up with and I don't, he thinks. There ought to be a dog here. I can't study without a dog. Yes. That's exactly what the problem is.

Eren's phone buzzes and he flinches. Armin has finally answered his texts.

 _Hey sorry about that_ , Armin writes. _I went to dinner with Elin and a bunch of Mitras folks_.

I'm so jealous I want to die, Eren thinks. God almighty, I need to get out of this house. _No worries, how was it?_

_Great, I'm just wiped out_   
_Elin's going to Madison tomorrow to visit college friends_   
_so I wanted to do something tonight_   
_since our grandpa's still out of town_

_We still good for tomorrow night?_ Eren begins to sweat. Oh please don't hate me. Please don't be mad.

 _Yeah definitely_ , Armin types. _As long as you like zombies._

_hahaha what?_

_because I'm going to be one_ , Armin says.

 _You sure you're ok for tomorrow?_ Please be ok for tomorrow, Eren thinks. Aw, fuck. I should call Marco. I should tell him to call it off. But no, the tickets are already bought. Everybody already made plans. Marco made a dinner reservation, but he never mentioned where.

_it'll be all right_   
_I'm just complaining_

_Hey listening to you is way better than studying for biology_ , Eren types.  
_Do you know how hard I'm trying to think of dolphins right now?_

 _Think of the aquarium_ , Armin says.

 _No_ , Eren says.  
_Too much_  
 _Now I can't focus at all_

 _write me a poem_ , Armin types.  
_in spanish_  
 _about how much you hate biology_  
 _but it has to rhyme_

 _I could do that_ , Eren says.

 _I think you like being distracted_ , Armin says.

 _I need help_ , Eren says  
_Not with biology, I mean like with life_

_::pats you on the head::_   
_you're gonna be ok_   
_I'm excited to see you tomorrow_

This is it, Eren thinks. I can fail this exam and then walk out into the street and get hit by a bus, but I will die happy. This is what I want to hear.

Eren sinks deeper into the couch. Marco, I hope you know what you're getting into. This better be good. If Armin doesn't want to go out, it better be your fault for setting this up and not mine for not stopping it.

Eren cracks his knuckles above his head. Yeah, that's right. This was Marco's idea, Eren thinks. If Armin's not doing well, he'll just have to let me take care of him. And Marco invited Jean, and I want to see Jean be a squicked-out nervous mess around Marco in public. The more awkward Jean is, the less awkward I look.

That's not a very nice thing to think, Eren tells himself. But then, it's not like Santa Claus is real.

Annie's phone chimes. "Huh." She squints at the screen.

"What's up?" Mikasa leans over. Then her and Eren's phones chime too.

"Severe weather alert," Annie says. "Man. We're supposed to get dumped on with snow tomorrow night."

"Wait, seriously?" Eren looks over at them.

"Yeah, but it's not supposed to start until the middle of the night, it says."

"Well that's good," Mikasa says. She looks at Eren with a grin. "We don't want to miss your prince."

Eren rolls his eyes.

"Aw, come on," Mikasa says. "You're not excited to see Armin skate tomorrow?"

"Of course I am," Eren says. They don't need to know that the thought of Armin in his prince costume has been a light at the end of the tunnel for Eren's hellish week.

Annie leans back over the arm of the couch to stretch, and lays her legs across Mikasa's lap. "I highly recommend dating a figure skater," she says with a wry smile. "It's pretty great."

"True," Mikasa says.

"Y'all are gross," Eren says.

"You're jealous," Annie says.

Eren scowls. "I'm going upstairs." He gathers his books and his phone.

Eren wants to ask Armin for a photo. He decides to send Armin one first, and maybe he'll get one back. Eren drops his books on the bed and peels his shirt off.

**

"You're not wearing that," Mikasa says. She stands at the top of the stairs with her arms crossed and looks down at Eren.

"What? What's wrong with it?" Eren sticks his arms out to the sides, already warm in his dark green parka.

"It's like you're not even trying to impress him," Mikasa says. "Why don't you wear the coat Mom and Dad got you last year? The nice wool one?"

Eren looks at the floor. "It's not that warm."

"Yes it is. What are you wearing under it?" Mikasa asks.

Eren unzips his parka. A gray cashmere sweater and dark jeans.

Mikasa scoffs. "Ok, see? That's a perfectly nice outfit, and you're going to ruin it with the parka you wear to practice?"

Eren glares at her.

"You just need a scarf, you'll be fine," she says.

"I don't have one that matches," Eren grumbles.

"Here, take mine." Mikasa unfolds the burgundy scarf from around her own neck and tosses it to Eren. Eren gave it to her for Christmas three years prior. It had become her cold-weather trademark.

"Everyone's going to know this is yours," Eren says. He puts his parka back in the hall closet and retrieves his dark wool overcoat.

"No they won't. Marco and Armin won't, anyway. Eren, just put it on, it looks good with your coat. And we're going to be late."

"What about you?" Eren asks. "What are you going to wear?"

Mikasa darts back to her room and returns with a white scarf Eren's never seen. She walks down the steps and wraps it around her neck. In the low light Eren can make out a faint, shimmery paisley pattern. Mikasa tucks the ends into her navy coat and the result reminds Eren of a Victorian cravat.

"Where'd that come from?" Eren looks at her.

"Levi gave it to me," Mikasa says. "It's nice, don't you think?"

Eren cocks his head. It looks like the kind of thing Levi would wear if he were a woman, Eren thinks. "Yeah, it's pretty."

"He got me this, too." Mikasa pulls her keys from her purse. A tiny plush penguin with big shining eyes hangs from a silver ring.

"Amazing," Eren says. "He does have a heart. Are we going, or not?"

"Bye Mom!" Mikasa shouts down the hall. "We'll be back later!"

Eren sighs as they walk out the door. He wishes he could stay over at Armin's instead of coming back here.

He walks with Mikasa down the crunchy, salty path to the train station. Holy crap, this scarf is really warm, he realizes. I am such a good brother.

"See, I told you it looks good." Mikasa looks at their reflection in the dark window of the train.

Eren cracks a smile. She's not wrong. He usually never wears red. Typically he reaches for green.

"Sibling selfie," Mikasa whispers as she draws her phone from her bag. She catches Eren off guard, but the look of surprise on his face reads as spontaneous and natural on the little screen.

"Yeah, that's a good one. Post it," Eren says. Then he sees Mikasa typing out a little caption about being on their way to the Nutcracker. "Wait, no, don't type that! It's supposed to be a surprise!"

"Eren. Isn't Armin backstage right now? Like warming up or getting dressed or something? You really think he's going to see it?"

"He might," Eren says to the floor.

Mikasa laughs. "Yeah, if he looks at your stuff as often as you snoop on his, then you're right, he probably will."

Eren leans against the wall of the train and crosses his arms.

"Eren, lighten up," Mikasa says. "I'm on your side here, ok? I like Armin."

"Well at least there's that," Eren says.

"Doesn't mean I'm not going to give you a hard time about it," Mikasa says.

Eren sinks into the seat next to her and the train pulls into the next station. Eren isn't sure if he's making it up, or if the snow is starting to get denser.

**

Marco is easy to spot. His winter coat is a dark, almost iridescent red, with a furry black trim on the hood that Eren hopes is fake. In one hand, he holds a huge bunch of white lilies tied together with a silvery blue ribbon.

"Eren!" Marco gives Eren a crushing hug that squeezes Eren's face between his pecs, even through the coat. Eren isn't sure if Marco does that on purpose, or if excitement simply got the best of him. He gives Mikasa a much more delicate side hug.

"Mina and Jean will be here soon," Marco says. "Annie and Sasha and Connie are inside."

"Are those for Armin?" Mikasa points at the flowers.

"Yes, they are his favorite," Marco says with his megawatt smile.

"Wait a second," Eren says. "Marco, you gotta do something. Just for fun. When Jean gets here, you gotta pretend you got those flowers for Jean."

Marco's eyes widen. "Jean will not like that, I think."

"But it'll be funny," Eren says.

Marco sighs and gives Eren an endearing look. "Yes. It will be funny. Ok, he will be mad. But I will tell him it is your idea."

"Fine by me," Eren says.

"You guys, come on, let's go inside, it's cold." Mikasa pulls open the heavy glass door and whisks them through. The atrium is filled with people and lined with artificial Christmas trees covered in glitter of various shades of white and blue.

Eren brushes against one by accident and a little sparkly cloud erupts into the air. "Shit." He tries to brush it off of him, but ends up only spreading it around.

"Hi guys." Krista walks up to them in a prim white pea coat and a beret. Ymir follows her, in a heavy black faux fur jacket and her hair in a French braid. You ought to let Krista dress you more often, you clean up pretty good, Eren thinks.

Young people dressed as snowflakes wind through the crowd with cups of hot chocolate on trays. Sasha grabs two. "Man, this is swanky," she says. She takes a sip.

"Ok, who's missing?" Annie says.

"There they are." Mikasa spots Mina, Reiner, and Bertolt as they walk in.

"What about Jean?" Eren asks.

Marco looks at his phone. "He says he has just got here."

Eren rubs his hands together. "Good."

"Don't be mean," Mikasa says.

"Come on. You want to see it, too." Eren says.

"Ok, yeah, fine."

Annie drapes her arm around Mikasa. "Both of you are mean, just embrace it."

"Oh shit, here he comes." Eren grins wide as Jean walks in.

Marco gloms onto Jean in front of everyone and kisses him on the cheek. Jean's face flushes red.

"Jean, I brought you this," Marco says. He holds up the flowers.

Jean blinks a few times, speechless. "Um...what?"

"They are for you! It is a date, no?"

Eren didn't think Jean could get redder, but apparently he could.

"Uh...yeah, that's, um...thank you? That was...really nice of you..." Jean scratches the back of his neck. There's a moment of silence.

Shit, Eren thinks. Should Marco just give them to Jean?

"Jean, I am just kidding, you know," Marco says. "They are for Armin."

Jean looks slightly ill. The others hold back sputters of laughter.

"Don't worry, I have something else for you later," Marco says with a wink. He grabs Jean's hand and pulls him over toward the others.

"Yeah," Eren says. "Carrots and sweet feed, right?"

"Shut up, Eren," Jean says.

"You'd just eat the flowers anyway," Eren mutters.

Jean kicks Eren in the back of the leg.

"Hey!" Eren shouts.

Krista takes two cups of hot chocolate from the nearest snowflake and puts them in Jean and Eren's hands. "Let's be civilized, hm?" She gives them a little patronizing smile and pats them on the cheek. Ymir snickers.

"We should get our seats, it's going to start soon," Mina says. Marco wraps one arm around her, one around and Jean, and leads the band of them toward the door to the arena.

They make their way down the steep staircase, closer to the ice. Eren looks for his seat number on his ticket. Then he notices the price on the bottom corner says $45.00. "Marco," Eren whispers loudly. "You said these tickets were ten bucks!"

Marco shrugs and holds a finger to his lips.

"These are really good seats!" Eren says.

"If you are going to see your friend, you should be able to see them actually, I think," Marco says. He winks at Eren.

Eren sits down between Marco and Mikasa. He drums his fingers against the armrest. Yeah, he thinks. To see them.

Eren looks at the closed curtain at the end of the ice. Any minute now.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is one of the weaker chapters since I wrote it because I couldn't sleep on a plane, but I think if you've stayed with me this long, you pretty much know what to expect at this point (and I appreciate you still being here).

Just a few minutes to curtain. Armin knows he should leave his phone in the dressing room and go wait with the rest of the cast, but he unlocks it again to scroll through it one more time, compulsively. He sees two missed calls from his grandfather and a couple of texts.

_Armin I have to stay in Vancouver an extra night. All the flights back into Chicago tonight are canceled. Be careful tonight. Lots of snow here and even more where you are. Supposed to get really bad. If you need anything call me._

Wait a second, Armin thinks. If Grandpa won't be back tonight, then that means Eren could come stay with me...maybe not the whole night, but just for a little bit. But how bad is the snow supposed to be?

Armin starts to type a text to Eren when the Rat King, Michael, pokes his head in the dressing room. "Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah." Armin shoves the phone back into the pocket of his coat hanging from its hook on the wall and follows Michael out into the green room behind the entrance to the ice.

**

The orchestra warms up on its platform off to the side of the ice. Eren hadn't expected live music. He assumed it would be recorded.

"I don't know, you guys," Connie says. He flips through the program with the photograph of Armin and Daniela on the cover. "I'm not sure how many sugar plums I can watch. This might be a bit much."

Krista turns around in her seat. "Hey. As a former sugar plum, I resent that."

Annie nudges Connie in the back of the head with her knee. "Connie. We are here to support Armin. You will watch the sugar plums, and you will like it," she says with mock severity.

"Hm, sugar plums...that sounds good right about now," Sasha says.

"What kind of flowers do you like?" Marco asks Jean.

"Marco, seriously, it's fine, you don't need to get me flowers, like, ever."

"But I want to know," Marco says.

Jean tilts his head back. "You know...I have literally never thought it about it before. I have no idea."

"There is no kind of plant that you like?" Marco is painfully sincere, and it makes Eren's stomach turn a little bit. Still, it's funny to see Jean uncomfortable.

Jean shrugs. "I mean...I like poinsettias, I guess."

"Which ones are those?" Marco asks.

"You see them this time of year," Jean says. "They're really bright red..."

"Oh, yes, I know them!"

Eren looks at his program, eager for the show to start and Jean to shut up. Shit, he thinks. I should have brought Armin something. But what? A stuffed dolphin from the aquarium gift shop?

The music begins, completely familiar and yet strangely fresh and new at the same time. The curtain opens and golden orange light spills out across the ice. Ornate window panels hang suspended between enormous Christmas trees standing on the ice to create the wall of the house in the opening scene. Everything is sparkly. It's a kind of prissy phantasmagoria Eren wouldn't have been caught dead watching a few years ago. But the only people who would give him a hard time about it are all sitting around him.

As soon as Armin emerges, Eren can't take his eyes off of him. Eren's close enough to see the details of his costumes, the expressions on his face. Under the colorful stage lights, he looks otherworldly to Eren. Eren wonders what he would think if he didn't know Armin, if he had simply gotten dragged along by relatives to see the show. He thinks he would be as awestruck as he is now, but there would be a feeling of despair along with it. Like you could ever meet someone so talented, so perfect. Armin's demeanor on the ice makes him seem like a new person, no trace of the previous week's fatigue, only pure charisma, effortless dynamism.

Eren fidgets in his seat. But Armin isn't perfect. And that's why I want him so much. He has navy blue toenails from spa night underneath those ice skates. He didn't like my dog, and he gets cold pretty easily if he doesn't keep moving around a lot. He's kind of a lonely, awkward kid who doesn't have that many friends here yet. And yet. Put him in a costume and makeup, and...

Eren wonders what Armin's thinking about, whether he has any idea what he looks like out there. Is he nervous? Is it hard? Is it like when I play hockey and everything happens so fast you barely have time to even think about it, you just do it, you just let it happen on its own accord?

There's only so long Eren can stay suspended above the show before he gets totally drawn in, out of his head, out of his thoughts, and into the mesmerizing movement.

"I actually really like how they choreographed this," Krista whispers to Mikasa during an interlude. "I don't know what I expected, it's so different from the original ballet, but it works." The numbers transition from complicated synchronized maneuvers to ice dancing to short solo routines and back again in unceasing motion, everything pristine and precise as clockwork.

Eren follows Armin's movements. He supposes it isn't nearly as taxing as a competition program. But some of the scenes have thirty skaters at a time, and moving set pieces, and changing lights, and lifts...

"This is so gay," Reiner says.

"I know." Bert clasps his hands together. "I love it."

Eren waits with Connie and Sasha in line for popcorn during intermission. He wants to text Armin and tell him how good it is, how he thought he'd enjoy it, but he didn't expect to like it this much, but he doesn't want to ruin the surprise. The surprise. The little knot of dread is still present in Eren's stomach. Eren tries to take his mind off of it, and pictures Armin changing out of his costume again.

"You all right, man?" Connie notices Eren staring off into space.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

**

So far so good. No mistakes. The crowd likes it, they're responding well. This is good, Armin thinks. He stretches along the barre in the green room and prepares for the second act.

"Just remember, even on your worst day out there, you're still doing something most people only dream of doing," Ilse told Armin and Daniela a few years prior, when they were still in the ensemble. Armin never liked that approach at all. Good enough isn't good enough in his mind. This is a performance, it's a job. Anything less than 100 percent is unacceptable. Armin isn't sure what supernatural force animates him, keeps him going. Is it passion? Or maybe pride? Maybe a mix of the two. But he got this far, he got what he wanted as a kid, and he'll be damned if he isn't going to execute this role as perfectly as he possibly can. There will be time to rest later.

The dressing rooms are a flurry of activity as the others change costumes. Armin has a moment to himself. Another hour, and then he gets to see Eren. Then he can quit being perfect and just be Armin. Another show knocked out. It doesn't give him the magical thrill he expected it to when he was younger. It's not as hard as Levi's programs, but it's long. If that's a sprint, this is a marathon. But it doesn't matter. The magic is for the audience. If they love it, that's all that matters.

The lights flash. Places for act two.

"You ready?" Daniela sidles up next to him.

"You know it." Armin gives her a fist bump. They step back onto the ice.

**

When the music ends and the storm of applause fills the arena, Armin can't keep himself from smiling. He and Daniela take their bow. Maybe one day it will get old, but today is not that day. He's out of breath, his bones sting, and he feels as though his legs might give out any second. It doesn't matter. The rest of the cast is luminous with pride, he can't not join in. Armin just wishes the glow of satisfaction could last longer. He wishes he could dwell in that rapturous space for a little while longer before all the ordinary anxious thoughts creep in.

Eren's texts say he'll meet Armin near the back entrance to the arena. Armin changes back into jeans and a sweater, but he leaves his hair pulled back. He wipes off the most obvious of the makeup, but leaves his eyes and eyebrows slightly darkened. Armin likes the effect of it tonight. It makes him feel a little older, makes his face look a little less soft and more refined. Armin grins at his reflection in the mirror.

When he goes to the back entrance and opens the door, he stands frozen for a second. He spots Eren, then Marco nearly knocks him over with a hug, lilies in hand.

"Marco? What the--" Armin looks around, dumbfounded at the group waiting for him. "What are--what are you doing here?"

"I told you, we wanted to come see your show!" Marco says.

Armin's eyes well up with tears. For a moment, he can't speak or move. He catches Eren's gaze. The others all smile proudly, but Eren has an expression of helpless panic on his face. Armin shakes his head, walks up to Eren, and embraces him.

"You were amazing," Eren says softly into Armin's ear.

"Thanks," Armin says.

"And now we are all going out for dinner!" Marco claps his hands together.

Armin's body stiffens. He puts more of his weight on Eren. Ok, he thinks. He takes a deep breath. One more act.

**

The snow is falling harder as they walk through the pier. "So...where are we going, exactly?" Eren asks. Armin clutches his hand as if to keep vertical. He lets Eren and Marco lead their chattery group through the winding crowd and tries not to crush the bouquet.

"It is very close, you will see!" Marco wraps a possessive arm around Jean.

"I'm fine as long as I don't have to all the talking," Armin says so only Eren can hear.

Eren reaches for Armin's waist and pulls him closer. They both brush the snow out of their faces. "Don't worry, Marco talks enough for six people," Eren says under his breath. Armin chuckles.

Krista and Mikasa wax on at length about the choreography. They had taken ballet lessons together as kids, before Mikasa transitioned to focusing only on skating. Ymir and Annie are content to let them gush about it. After the week of exams, Armin isn't the only one who's tired.

"Yeah, I didn't really know what any of y'all were doing, but it looked cool," Connie adds.

"Eren," Armin says discreetly, "My grandpa's flight back got canceled this afternoon. I have the apartment to myself. After all this is done, can you come back with me?"

Eren stops walking for a second, his eyes wide.

**

Marco leads them down a side street. A neon sign glows pink above them. Agnes & Muriel's American Diner.

What the hell is this place, Armin wonders.

"Oh my god," Sasha lets out a little shriek. "I haven't been here in forever! I love this place!"

Marco opens the door. The powder blue and teal green dining room has a checkered floor and is covered in 1960s kitsch. Clusters of lawn flamingos all seem to be looking at Armin. Each one has a tiny santa hat.

"Bodt, party of eleven? This way." The hostess wears a beehive hairdo and cat eye glasses. She leads them to a round table in a corner next to a wall made up of vintage television sets. Then Armin notices the old televisions have been made into aquariums filled with goldfish. They drift serenely behind the glass.

"Ok, this is actually pretty cool," Armin says. A massive silver starburst light fixture hangs above them. Lava lamps bubble on the booths nearby.

Armin collapses into his seat next to Eren. He pulls his chair up closer to Eren's and put his head on Eren's shoulder. Please don't think I'm boring; please don't think I'm pathetic, Armin says to himself as the others get settled and brush the snow off their coats.

"Seriously, though, you were so good," Annie says. Praise from her is scarce. Armin believes it.

Why am I so worried, Armin wonders. Half of them are ice skaters, they expect me to be tired. I've just been entertaining them for the last two hours, they don't need me to put on a dog and pony show while we eat. They came to see me skate, not do an endurance trial.

Armin props himself up on his elbows and lets Eren rub his back. The food on its own is entertainment enough. The huge platter of grilled cheese sandwiches vanishes quickly. Tall milkshakes of various pastel colors disappear. Marco is awestruck at the existence of a pale green pistachio salad that includes maraschino cherries and miniature marshmallows. "It is the most American food I have ever seen," he says. Sasha and Connie order piles of macaroni and cheese the size of their heads. Krista picks at her food, but she's animated. Even quiet Bertolt and Mina are lively and chatty. Did you really think ten friends couldn't entertain themselves without your help? It's nice, for once, to listen, Armin thinks. To just get to know them.

The heat from Eren's hand seeps in through Armin's shirt. What a bizarre feeling, he realizes, to not have to be in the center of things to be included. Armin grins at Marco who sits across the table from him, until he sees a pack of servers heading their way. The beehive hostess leads them, holding a blueberry cheesecake covered in lit sparklers. Armin's eyes widen. No. Oh no. You did not lie to these people about today being my birthday.

The servers sing in harmony, and much of the busy restaurant chimes in, cheering for Armin at the end. Armin keeps up a plastic smile. Once the fanfare is over, he glares at Marco, who smiles wider than ever.

"Marco Bodt. I swear to god. I hate your guts right now," Armin says.

Marco shrugs. "I had to do it. They brought you a cake."

Mina laughs. "Marco. You bought that cake."

Marco holds a finger to his lips and winks at Armin.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin gets a special prize for winning the bruise contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2018! I have been the absolute worst about updating things and responding to comments! I was too sick to go out and party, so the next best thing is writing this ridiculous fanfic! I hope you enjoy. <3

Fat, fluffy snowflakes pelt Armin and Eren's faces when they step back outside. Armin gives the bouquet of lilies a hard shake, sending more snow flying off of them. By now they're nearly crushed from the cycle of hugs congratulations and good night. Eren carries plastic bags heavy with leftovers.

"Hey, uh, so, I'm going to go back to Armin's for a little bit," Eren says discreetly to Mikasa.

"It's fine," Mikasa says with a little smirk. She glances at him and Armin. "I'll tell Mom you're coming back later."

Eren and Armin break away from the pack heading to the Red Line train and turn up the street toward the apartment complex. The tops of the buildings have vanished in the snow.

"Man. It's really coming down," Armin says. 

"Yeah, no kidding." Eren leans over and pecks Armin on the cheek.

Armin laughs, then stops. "We should go in through in the back," he says.

Eren chuckles. 

Armin looks at the ground. "I don't really want to deal with the doorman...he's just, like, super chatty--"

"No, I know what you mean," Eren says. They walk in through the entrance to the parking garage. "This is more fun anyway. Sneaking in." He cracks his signature grin again. 

Armin swipes a key card and they step into a wood-paneled elevator.

"Nice place," Eren says. Brass sconces line the hall that disappears as the door closes.

Armin shrugs. "Grandpa's a psychiatrist, so..."

Armin's feet are damp from the thickening piles of snow, but he feels exceptionally warm under his coat. He watches his and Eren's reflection in the mirror across from them. He likes how they look next to each other. He wishes they'd taken more photos at dinner. 

The elevator seems unusually slow. Armin takes a deep breath. Even with all the rehearsals, it's impossible not to feel that jolt of adrenaline before getting on the ice to perform. Every time, he wishes it would go away, and every time, it remains. So I was wrong, Armin thinks, looking at Eren. This is the last performance of the night. Audience of one.

Being full of food doesn't stop Armin's stomach from tying itself in knots.

"What?" Eren asks.

"Nothing," Armin says.

Eren leans over and kisses Armin against the wall of the elevator. The feeling of it is just starting to become familiar, and Armin realizes that makes him like it even more.

"Nice to kiss you somewhere that isn't the North Point parking lot," Eren says.

Armin smiles, but he freezes when the door opens. He looks around before he steps out.

"What's wrong, nosy neighbors?" Eren nudges Armin with his elbow.

"Oh my god, Eren, this place is full of old people with nothing to do but gossip." Armin pulls his keys from his pocket and opens a door at the end of the hall. He flicks on the light. 

They slip their wet shoes off by the door and set the food and flowers on the kitchen table. Without taking his coat off, Eren gloms onto Armin in a suffocating hug that feels like one of Marco's. Do I have this effect on people, Armin wonders? He laughs and Eren finds his face again. It's a slow, comforting kiss, until Eren suddenly stands bolt upright.

"What the--?" Eren looks down. The cat brushes against his leg and lets out an annoyed meow.

"Oh, shit," Armin says. "I forgot to feed her." 

"Hey, wait a second," Eren says. "You have a Turkish cat."

"What?" Armin pulls off his coat and lays it on the back of a chair. He pours dry food into Rosalind's bowl.

"Yeah, my uncle has cats like these." Eren kneels down and holds out his hand. "They're called angora cats." The cat pushes her head into his palm, then examines her unappealing food.

"Oh. I just call her a hair machine," Armin says. 

Eren laughs. He rubs his fingers together and a little bit of fluff drifts toward the floor. "Yeah, that's for sure." 

"You don't want to take your coat off?"

Eren stretches his arms out. "Help me?"

Armin undoes the buttons and unwraps the red scarf. "You and Mikasa got the same scarf, huh?"

Eren just nods. Armin kisses Eren's exposed neck and slips his coat off of him. He wraps his arms around Eren's cashmere-clad torso and lays his head on Eren's collarbone. 

For a moment, everything is quiet except for the sound of the cat crunching awkwardly and the hum of the refrigerator. Armin feels like he could fall asleep like this, embracing Eren, if it weren't for the surge of blood coursing through him. How can something be so relaxing and so nerve wracking at the same time?

"When do you have to be home?" Armin asks.

Eren shrugs and kisses Armin's temple. "I don't know, midnight? I'll just call a ride or something."

That gives us about an hour, Armin thinks. He looks up and kisses Eren. 

"Oh my god," Eren groans.

"What?"

"I've been waiting for this all week." Eren kisses the top of Armin's head. Then he reaches up to wipe his mouth.

Armin cringes. "Oh god, I still have to wash that crap out of my hair--"

Eren shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." He glances down the hall. "You know what we still have to do, right?"

"What?"

"Bruise contest," Eren says.

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Come on."

Armin rolls his eyes and leads Eren to the living room. 

"Ok, you're going first," Eren says.

Armin laughs as Eren starts to undo his belt buckle. "Eren, seriously--"

"I'm totally serious," Eren says. He kneels on the carpet and slides down Armin's jeans. "Holy shit."

Armin's body stiffens. He sits down onto the couch, his jeans around his ankles. "Yeah, I know it's gross--"

"You win," Eren says. "No question." Eren runs his thumbs delicately over Armin's skin, examining the dark patches under the fine dusting of blonde hair on Armin's legs. "You guys fall a lot, don't you." Eren's voice is distant and soft.

"I mean...it's part of the sport," Armin says. Eren's grip is light.

"Yeah," Eren says. He pulls Armin's jeans off from around his feet. He rests his chin between Armin's knees and looks up at him. "Ok. You won. So you get a prize."

"Oh, do I?"

Eren reaches for the band of Armin's underwear and pulls that off of him, too. 

Armin shivers. "It's not fair," he says.

"What?"

"Me sitting here half-naked when you're still dressed."

"Oh my god. How rude of me," Eren says. He pulls off his sweater. 

Armin stares for a moment. The shirtless mirror selfies don't really do him justice, do they? How nice to properly see what you've only gotten to touch.

"Better?" Eren asks. 

"Yep, perfect." Armin leans back into the couch cushions. How can Eren be so nonchalant? He looked like a deer in headlights after the show, but now he seems totally fine.

Armin feels Eren's grip on his thighs and the heat of his breath. Come on, he tells himself. For someone who's always tired, why can't you just relax?

Eren looks down at the cushions for a second, then back up Armin. "I'm, uh, probably not going to be that good at this."

"It's ok." Armin tilts his head back and sighs. "Practice makes perfect." He glances at Eren and chuckles at his own joke.

Eren bites his lip and nods. 

But it's not like Eren even has to do much to get Armin completely hard. The first stroke of Eren's tongue shuts Armin up. 

Armin grips the cushions. Eren takes him into his mouth easily. Maybe too easily. Armin would be embarrassed by it if it didn't feel so good, pulling all of his attention to the fulcrum of his body. All the soreness and tiredness of everything else fades into the background, and all Armin can feel is the pads of Eren's thumbs teasing him open, his tongue, the tightness of lips.

Then Eren's phone rings in his back pocket. Eren draws back and groans. "Shit." He pulls his phone from his pocket. "Mom?"

Armin sits stupefied, dazed. The air feels cold on his wet, erect cock.

"Eren, sweetheart, are you still at Armin's?" The digital voice is loud enough for Armin to hear.

"Huh? Yeah, I am. Why?"

"See if you can stay over. Don't try to come back in this. It's total whiteout--"

"Wait, what?"

"Honey, have you looked outside?" Carla asks. The boys look out the window. Only solid white is visible from this high up. "I just picked up Annie and your sister from the Red Line. Annie's staying here. A bunch of train lines are going to stop running soon...you remember that big blizzard in 2011?"

"Wait, I didn't think it was supposed to get that bad. Or at least not until tomorrow," Eren says. He rests his hand on Armin's leg.

"Well, I didn't think so either, but Lake Shore Drive is already totally backed up. Honey, just don't try to get on the roads tonight, ok? Your dad's staying with some co-workers who live close to the hospital. It's ok for you to stay over at Armin's?" 

Eren looks up, green eyes wide.

Armin nods rapidly. If Carla doesn't know Emil is out of town, neither of the boys is about to mention it to her. 

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine," Eren says.

"Ok, I'll call you in the morning, sweetie. Once the roads are clear I'll come pick you up, ok?"

Eren squeezes Armin's thigh. "Yeah. For sure. Thanks, Mom."

"Ok, good night, honey,"

"Good night." Eren drops his phone onto the carpet. He sits on his knees, frozen for a moment. "Holy shit." He blinks a few times. "Ok." He shakes his head. "Where were we?"

Armin laughs, then shudders when Eren swirls his tongue around his balls. "Ah. Yeah. That. Oh god. That...that feels really good..."

It's perfect, he thinks; it's better than anything his imagination can conjure up. Then Armin notices two other green eyes looking at him from across the room. The cat sits there, watching.

For fuck's sake, Armin thinks. I really don't need another animal staring at me, seriously. 

The little drizzles of Eren's tongue bring him back to the moment. 

Eren grips Armin's legs tighter and sucks him harder. Armin's back arches; he braces himself against the back of the couch with his shoulder blades. Eren grabs Armin's hips and holds his body in its tight arc. 

"Oh my god...Eren..." Armin's breath is shallow. 

Eren just gives a little groan of approval.

Armin pushes himself up on his hands. He looks down his torso at Eren's glossy dark head, devouring him. "Eren, I'm--"

The feeling of it is electric. A rush down Armin's spine. Eren swallows hard, then coughs a little.

Armin falls back onto the couch. His breath is hard. Eren looks at him with the most demonic of smiles. He wraps his arms around Armin's waist, and lays his head in Armin's lap.

"Oh my god," Armin groans, too overwhelmed to be sarcastic. His body feels tingly. His fingers drift through Eren's hair. He feels weightless. 

Eren stands up and straddles Armin on the couch. They smell like saliva and sweat. Armin reaches up to see if Eren is hard through his jeans, but Eren lays his hands on Armin's shoulders. 

"There's a Walgreens in your building, right?"

"What?" 

"Isn't there a pharmacy on the first floor? A 24 hour one?"

Armin tries to shake off the mild delirium. "Huh? Yeah, there is, but--"

"We got to go," Eren says. "Put your pants back on."

"What?"

"I know," Eren says, "I hate telling you to do that, but we have to go."

"Wait, why?" 

"Armin. We have to get supplies."

Armin just looks at Eren.

"Armin, we're about to be totally snowed in, we got to go before it closes, I'm serious. Come on." Eren stands back up. 

Armin reaches his hands out and Eren pulls him to his feet. He clutches onto Eren to keep from falling over.

"Whoa, you ok?" Eren asks.

"I'm good," Armin says. "I stood up too fast. All my blood went to my dick. Just give me a second." 

Eren laughs. He kisses Armin's ear. The fluffy white cat is still staring.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin get supplies for their impromptu lock-in. They manage to stay awake long enough to take a shower together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've challenged myself to write something every day of 2018, which is great, but it also means I end up staying up late trying to bang some words out to meet my daily quota. As a result, I feel like this chapter is a lot sloppier than previous ones, but I also hope it doesn't make too much of a difference and that you enjoy it anyway!

Armin stumbles back into the elevator. Eren laughs and wraps his arms around him again. 

Armin heaves a heavy sigh. "I'm a tired burrito," he says.

"I know," Eren says. "I'm tired too. Exam stuff wore me out."

Armin nods into Eren's chest. He doesn't miss being in school. He shuts his eyes for a moment and prays the elevator doors won't open until they reach the ground floor. 

He can feel Eren's heart beat quickly through his shirt. The warmth of his body is primally comforting, and it's a relief, in a way, to know that Eren's not perfectly calm either. Armin doesn't want to field any questions, he doesn't want to deal with any judgment from his grandfather's friends. Show's over, folks. If you want to see me, you can buy a fucking ticket. He knows they all mean well, they're trying to be polite. But it's exhausting, in a different way from skating. There's only one set of eyes he wants on him right now, and from the reflection in the mirror, they're gently shut. Eren rests his cheek to Armin's temple.

Just a few blocks away, walking through the pier and downtown, he felt proud to be seen with someone as hot as Eren. It was like a stamp of approval, a way to go from transparent to opaque. Look who likes me. I know, I can't believe it either. 

But up here, Armin resents feeling like he has to make up some story about his 'new friend.' 

They have the elevator to themselves until they reach the lobby.

The fluorescent lights in the pharmacy are garishly bright. People mill about. It's the most crowded Armin's ever seen it. He's not sure if it's better that way, to help them blend in, or worse--more people to see them. 

Armin bristles, upset with himself for caring so much. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?

Eren stops suddenly. "Do you have a gas stove?"

"What? Yeah, we do. Why?"

"Do you want to make s'mores?" Eren's face lights up.

"Eren, we've still got all that cheesecake--"

"I know." Eren looks at the ground. "But it's like we're camping, kind of..."

"I'm really not supposed to eat that much sugar--"

"Armin. Levi's in New York. He doesn't have to know."

Armin suddenly has a better idea of what Eren was like as a child. "Ok, you know what, just go for it. Make all the s'mores you want. Knock yourself out."

Eren grins widely and throws marshmallows and chocolate in a basket. He hunts around for graham crackers. Then he pulls a couple of cans of Predator Energy Drink out of a refrigerator.

"You drink that stuff?" Armin asks.

"Armin, we're going to be snowed in, we need supplies!" Eren grabs another can.

Armin rolls his eyes. "Ok, but what about..."

But Eren is already walking toward the family planning aisle. They stand silently for a moment in front of the shelves of condoms. Fortunately the boxes stand free for the taking, and not behind a locked glass door like at some of the pharmacies in Michigan. Armin's body is rigid with embarrassment, but at least they don't have to ask anyone for help.

"So, uh..." Eren looks at the shelf with consternation. "Whatever you want to get..."

"Yeah, I don't really care..."

They glance at each other, then back at the shelf. Then at each other again. Eren bites his lip.

From the corner of his eye, Armin spots one of his grandfather's neighbors from their same floor. He swipes a sliver box and a thin plastic bottle off the shelf, grabs Eren's wrist, and yanks him out of sight into another aisle.

"What's wrong?" Eren looks panicked.

"Neighbors," Armin says. He shoves the condoms and lube in the basket. The tall black Predator cans conceal them well. Did Eren do that on purpose?

"We ok?" Eren looks around.

"Yeah. Coast is clear," Armin says. "Sorry."

"It's ok, you have to live with these people." Then Eren notices the aisle of liquor behind him and sighs.

Only in Chicago, Armin thinks, can you buy liquor at the pharmacy. "We do have a bar, you know," he says.

Eren's grin comes back. "Oh my god." He turns and searches for another aisle.

"What?"

"We have to make spiked hot chocolate." 

We have to?

Eren grabs a box of the instant packets. "Ooh!" Then he gets a box of candy canes.

"Oh my god, Eren--"

"Armin, it's Christmas." Eren's eyes are wide and puppy-like.

"Ok, whatever, just get what you want." Armin throws his hands up.

Eren adds dinosaur fruit snacks, beef jerky, ramen noodles, a stick of Old Spice deodorant, and a bag of cat treats for Rosalind as a peace offering. "Ok, what else do we need?"

What else could we possibly need? Armin squeezes past the other frantic shoppers. He picks up a 'Christmas Evergreen' scented candle to help them cover their tracks. 

Eren tosses a couple of colorful packets in the basket. The same sheet masks they tried at Annie's. Perfect. 

Armin stands close to Eren in the long line. Even from a distance he can see the frazzled looks on the cashiers' faces. Outside, snow blows horizontally, and so densely that it looks like TV static. Huge drifts of it pile up against the tall windows of the store. Only a few unlucky pedestrians are still visible, bracing themselves against the wind. Armin wonders if the tired staff are going to be spending the night on roll-away beds in the lobby. Eren was right to come down when they did. The line creeps forward.

"We should make a blanket fort," Eren says.

Armin laughs. "You've seriously just been waiting for something like this to happen, haven't you." He glances into the basket. Nothing incriminating showing. 

"We haven't gotten, like, a real snow day since 2011," Eren says. "Plus, forts are awesome."

"Ok. I'll give you that." We may be the only two people in this entire store who are happy about this, Armin thinks. He glances around. The only people he knows are far ahead of them in line. He leans his head against Eren's shoulder, and Eren wraps his arm around his waist. "Jesus, I feel like a deer or a cow or something, like I could fall asleep standing up."

Eren laughs, but then his face falls. "Sorry. We're almost there."

Armin braces himself for judgment as they make their way to the counter. Why does it feel like walking to a guillotine? But the clerk's heavily-lined eyes look like they're struggling to stay open, too. There's no commentary on any of the pile of loot, only "Do you have a Walgreens card?"

They don't. They each fork over twenty dollars, grab the bags off the counter, and leave. Armin feels his body deflate with relief.

He leads them down a long green marble hall to the back elevators. Fewer prying eyes.

"What if the power went out?" Eren says.

"Don't even joke about that. I mean, seriously?" Armin looks up at him. "I would make you carry me up twenty-three flights of stairs."

"I could do it," Eren says.

Armin laughs. "You could?"

Eren shrugs. "With breaks."

**

Eren feels like he might start having heart palpitations. He's never been more excited for a snow day. But I don't want to ruin it, he thinks. I don't want to get on Armin's nerves. I don't want to make him sick of me. 

They leave their shoes by the door and spread their bounty out on the kitchen table. 

"This ought to set us for a while," Armin says. 

"Yeah," Eren says. There's a moment of silence. "So, uh...what do you...want to do now?"

"I want to wash my hair," Armin says. 

Eren nods.

"You want to join me?" 

Eren melts with relief at the little smile on Armin's face. "Yes." His voice cracks. Yes, that is exactly what I want to do right now. 

He follows Armin into the bathroom. The prospect of showering has never been so exciting. As a little kid, he hated taking baths, and Carla complained that dragging him into the tub was like bathing a cat. Not even colorful bubbles or eccentric rubber ducks could sway him. Now Eren feels lured to the water, walking trance-like behind Armin the siren. Lately thoughts of Armin keep in the shower long enough for his mother and Mikasa to bang on the door and demand he leave them some hot water.

Eren shuts the door behind them. Even with no one else in the house but the cat, it seems like the right thing to do. He pulls off his sweater and t-shirt, he slips out of his jeans and underwear.

Armin laughs when he sees Eren's knees, still bluish from skateboarding. "I'm not so sure I won that contest."

Eren is so distracted by the sight of Armin naked that he doesn't quite understand the words at first. He stands dumbstruck for a moment, taking in the whole image that his imagination has tried to piece together a million times. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, no, you totally did."

Armin smirks. "Come here."

For a moment, Eren lets Armin bathe him with his eyes. Then he obeys and steps closer. Armin presses his body into Eren's, and it makes him feel electric. Oh god. This is the hug you've been practicing for, Eren thinks.

He becomes acutely aware of his body, the temperature of the air on his skin, the heat radiating from Armin. If he slogged through the week in an exam-induced haze, the veil has lifted now. He kisses Armin and every nerve lights up. Every inch of Armin's skin is somehow exciting

Slow down, he tells himself. You're trying to kiss him, not eat him.

Armin draws back and turns on the shower. He waits with his hand under the water, testing it as it heats up.

Eren walks up behind him and kisses his neck. His erection pokes Armin's butt. 

Armin laughs and pulls Eren into the shower with him. "I actually do need to wash this shit out of my hair," he says.

"Oh, I know." Eren grins. "Don't let me slow you down. I'm, uh...happy to watch."

Armin works quickly. Eren leans back against the tile and breathes in the steam while he massages the base of his cock. He watches the streams of water run down toned Armin's body, watches him lather up his hair like a raccoon washing an apple.

"I like the color your hair turns when it's wet," Eren says. 

Armin smiles and rinses it out.

"I really just like your hair in general."

Armin slicks it back out of his face. 

"Most guys I know wouldn't have the guts to wear their hair long," Eren says.

Armin smirks a little, looks at the tile, then back up at Eren.

"Or get up in front of a crowd, or wear a prince costume--"

"Eren, shut up," Armin says. 

Eren laughs. He reaches for Armin again and pulls him close. It was exciting enough to touch his bare skin when they were dry. Now the water adds a new dimension.

Why are things like this with him, Eren wonders. Everything suddenly seems new. Cooking dinner, going to a movie, buying shit at Walgreens, taking a shower. Being around Armin injects a novelty and specialness into everything. It makes Eren feel alive.

Eren notices only he is hard. He hopes it's just fatigue and a long refractory period affecting Armin. From the way he kisses Eren back, Eren assumes it's not a lack of interest.

Armin's hand finds Eren's cock. "Do you want me to..."

"Uh, yeah..." Eren gasps a little at the touch. "You can just, uh...use your hands...if you want..."

Armin grins and palms Eren's balls.

"Ah, what if...uh, sit down with me?" Eren feels the language center of his brain deactivating. He sits back against the wall of the shower and guides Armin to sit in his lap, facing away from him. Armin reaches between his legs for Eren's cock again, and gives it another soapy stroke. Eren shudders behind him. He wraps his arms around Armin's torso. He licks and kisses Armin's neck and earns a happy groan.

"You mean like this?" Armin asks.

"Yes." Eren holds Armin's hips and lets himself be worked on. He pictures the condoms in their shiny box on the kitchen table. Maybe in the morning...

Armin closes his thighs around Eren's base for a moment and swirls his thumb around Eren's tip. Eren tilts his head back against the tile. Getting off will make him tired, but he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep, distracted by Armin and wanting to take advantage of his morning wood. But even this, with the water spilling over them, feels good. Eren relishes the weight of Armin's body against his, pressing him into the warm wall. After so many solo showers wondering what it would be like, for Armin to join him...

Eren squeezes Armin hard when he comes. He lies there panting. Armin leans back and kisses Eren beneath his ear. It makes Eren shiver.

"Sorry," Armin says.

"Oh god. No. I just...didn't expect to be so...sensitive afterwards..."

Armin turns around and straddles and Eren's hips. He leans down and kisses Eren, winding his fingers through Eren's wet hair. 

This is the best shower I've ever taken, Eren thinks. And it's only Friday night.

Armin lays his hands gently on Eren's shoulders. "Stay in here as long as you want," he says. "But I have to go to bed."

"Huh? No, I'm coming with you, just give me a second." Eren yawns.

Armin stands up and turns off the shower. He reaches out his hand to help Eren up. Eren can see the fatigue in Armin's face and it makes him feel guilty. We should sleep. Both of us need to sleep. And then, when we wake up...you'll still be there, and I won't just be imagining you.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just dream sequences and a sex scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I still have a few readers left after this crazy long hiatus! It's all fluff and smut from here on out, though. Sorry for the lack of updates and I hope you enjoy!

"I don't think any of my t-shirts are going to fit you," Armin says. "But these should." He hands Eren an extra pair of pajama pants. 

"I usually sleep without my shirt anyway," Eren says.

Armin starts to put one on, then stops. He leaves it in the drawer and grins at Eren. When Eren kisses him, it tastes like toothpaste. Even brushing their teeth had felt delightfully new. They glanced at each other awkwardly in the mirror and chuckled as their mouths filled with froth.

Armin plugs his phone in and lays it on the night stand. "You want me to see if I can find that extra charger, or...?"

Eren shakes his head. "I'm good. I'll just charge it in the morning."

Armin sighs. "Nice not to have to set an alarm."

"Yeah," Eren says. "No kidding."

Armin pulls back the covers and climbs in bed. He reaches out his arms for Eren to join him. Eren switches off the lamp on the table, lies down alongside him, and wraps his arms around him again. 

"I am going to have, like, epic cow licks in the morning," Armin says softly into Eren's chest.

"Yeah?"

"If I go to bed with my hair damp, it just like...sticks straight up, and I have to rinse it again."

"I really want to see this," Eren says. 

"Just no pictures."

"I would never do that to you," Eren says. Although the thought of having more pictures that are only for him makes him smile in the dark.

If it weren't for the week of exams and the hormonal haze from the shower, Eren doesn't know how long it would take him to fall asleep. His body begins to feel heavy, and Armin is pleasantly heavy in his arms.

"I'm glad you came back with me," Armin whispers. 

"Me too," Eren says.

There's no 'good night' that follows, just the stream of Armin's breath against Eren's skin. Twenty three floors up, surrounded by the dense snow, the apartment is supernaturally quiet, and Armin's room is pitch dark. 

Neither of them notices when the cat noses the door open and curls up between their feet at the foot of the bed. 

**

No, Armin thinks, this isn't right. All the other street signs had been in both Mandarin and English, so why not here? He can't understand anything.

He turns and looks in every direction. The crowd pushes past him on the street. The sky is solid white, and Armin doesn't know what time it is. What time is call? When do I have to be back at the arena? 

He grabs his phone from his pocket. The texts from Marco are all in Chinese. Not a roman letter on the screen anywhere, and no clock. Armin drops it and it cracks against the sidewalk. 

People are beginning to stare as they walk past. Armin flattens himself against the nearest wall. Please, not here, he tells himself. Don't just start crying in the middle of the street here... 

Just walk. 

Armin shoves the broken phone in his back pocket and makes his way to the next intersection, then the next. Just keep walking, you'll see some landmarks back to the hotel. 

Nothing looks familiar until he notices a dark green sweatshirt. A young man with glossy brown hair and tan skin buys a crêpe from a kiosk. 

"Oh hey," Eren says. "There you are."

Armin feels weightless with relief. Eren grabs Armin's hand and they walk through a giant open square bordered by great bronze sculptures of the animals of the zodiac. 

For a few minutes they walk and say nothing. Eren takes large, messy bites of crêpe. He gives Armin's hand a reassuring squeeze. 

"Where are we going?" Armin asks. 

"Hm? Oh. I don't know," Eren says. He smiles. "But wherever it is, it'll be interesting."

Armin rolls over on the bed, and the images melt away. Half awake, he feels only one thing: I need to find Eren. 

He scoots closer, and the movement rouses Eren. 

"You ok?" Eren whispers.

"Mm." Armin lays his head on Eren's chest. Watery images begin painting themselves across his mind again. 

**

Eren sits at the edge of the dock with his feet in the water. Armin sits next to him. Silvery gray mist hovers in the air all around them.

The dolphins make their chattery clicking noises. Eren squints and wonders how best to translate. 

"She says you remind her of a boy who used to feed her leftover fish bait," Eren says.

"How did you learn to speak Dolphin?" Armin asks.

Eren shrugs. "It's just something I've always been able to do."

"You're really lucky," Armin says. 

One of the dolphins clicks at them.

"She says you seem sad about something," Eren says.

"I guess." Armin sighs. "I think I'm just jealous. I feel like everyone can do things I can't do."

Eren turns to him. "What are you talking about?"

But Armin is quiet for a moment. He just looks into the water. "I don't know. It's like everyone is else better than me, somehow. And I have to be good at everything I do just to keep up and be normal."

Eren slides closer to him on the dock and puts his arm around Armin's shoulders.

"They don't understand English, do they?" Armin asks.

"Nope. Not a word. Only Spanish, and even then..."

The dream fades. Eren opens his eyes and sees the soft morning light glowing through the window. 

He moves to sit up and accidentally kicks the cat off the bed. She yowls and hisses at him.

"What the--Jesus, sorry--" Eren mutters.

The cat stares him down for a moment. She walks out through the cracked door to the living room.

Armin stirs. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Eren says. "The cat came in. I didn't see her. You should go back to sleep."

Armin yawns and stretches. He reaches for his phone. He rubs his eyes to read the screen better and squints. "My grandpa can't come back until tomorrow," he says. He lays the phone back down.

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah, he's at some nice hotel...for the conference." Armin yawns again. "Apparently...a bunch of people are stuck." Armin lies back down.

"That's terrible." Eren lies next to him.

"I know," Armin says with a little smile. "Just totally awful." He draws himself up close to Eren again and lets their legs tangle around each other. "All those poor people stuck in airports and stuff until the storm passes..."

A yowl comes from the kitchen.

"Shit," Armin says. "I keep forgetting to feed her."

"I'll do it," Eren says.

"Nah, it's fine. It'll just take a second."

Eren watches Armin trudge into the kitchen. The least graceful Eren's ever seen him. It's almost a relief. 

Surrounded by the silent screen of snow, every sound in the apartment is amplified. The dry food clattering in the cat's ceramic bowl, the movement of the water through the pipes, Armin's footsteps on the kitchen tile. 

Armin wanders back into the bedroom, stretching and yawning. Eren notices the articulation of each tiny muscle in his abdomen as he stretches. Armin's hair hangs messy in his face, not sticking up in spikes like Eren expected, but disheveled, bent at the ends, and--

Just like the photo. Eren's eyes widen a little.

"What?" Armin smiles.

Eren just shakes his head.

Armin climbs back in bed, and lies down on Eren's chest again. Eren lets his hands drift down Armin's back. He thinks of the first time Rose sat in his lap as a puppy, when she first started seeking him out and sitting and lying with him. Eren felt like his whole body just glowed with happiness from knowing she wanted to be around him. 

Eren pulls the blankets back over the two of them. Armin shifts his weight a little.

"You all right?" Eren asks.

Armin takes a deep breath. "Sometimes I feel like I could sleep for days," he says. "It's like...I don't know. Like being made out of lead."

Eren hugs him a little tighter. 

"But I don't remember not feeling this way," Armin says. "I felt like it all the time in China. I thought it was the jet lag at first, but it just...never went away."

Eren massages the back of Armin's neck. 

"I don't know," Armin says. "I don't know how much of it's normal and how much of it is something else."

"Yeah," Eren says. "If we ever get out of here, I guess you have to go get it checked out." He kisses the top of Armin's head. The smell of his hair makes Eren feel mildly delirious. 

Eren expects himself to fantasize about sex all the time, and Armin is the constant headliner in the theater of his mind. But it surprises him to imagine things like this as often as he does: all the moments in between. 

How do you do it, Eren wonders. It's like you can stop time. It's like I never want to leave this room. You make breathing interesting.

The weight of Armin's body and the warmth of his skin makes Eren hard. But Armin seems to have already fallen back asleep.

It's ok, Eren thinks. I can wait. 

The last thing he wants to do is ruin it and make Armin resent him. He tries to ignore the ache in his groin and go back to sleep, but his mind is on fire. 

Armin reaches for Eren's hip and nuzzles his neck. Eren flinches. 

"I thought you were going back to sleep," he says.

"I have all day to sleep," Armin says, his voice a half whisper. He props himself up on his forearms and looks at Eren with a sleepy grin.

If this is the last thing I see before I die, I would be happy, Eren thinks.

Then Armin makes a face.

"What's wrong?" Eren asks.

"Uh, nothing," Armin says. 

**

For better or for worse, Levi was right, Armin thinks. It's never been easier to push himself up than with Eren lying beneath him, his green eyes glazed with wonder.

Armin kisses Eren's neck again and feels him shiver. He licks Eren just beneath his ear. The excited gasps coming from Eren are better than any applause he's ever gotten from a packed ice arena. 

What else can I make you do, Armin wonders. What other reactions can I get out of you?

Armin slides his hand down Eren's torso, slowly, feeling the goosebumps on Eren's skin and the contraction of his muscles. He unties the drawstring on Eren's pajama pants and reaches for Eren's cock. Eren tilts his head back. Armin kisses the pit of Eren's neck and tightens his grip. 

Then Eren reaches for Armin's hips.

"I want to try something," Eren says. 

"Yeah?"

"Can I take these off?" Eren slips his thumbs under Armin's waistband.

"Sure," Armin says. He slithers out of his pajamas. 

"So, like, sit on your knees..." Eren guides Armin's body forward until his cock is an inch from Eren's face. Eren licks the tip and Armin shudders.

So much for feeling powerful, like a god. Armin rests his forearms against the headboard. Armin feels himself get fully erect inside Eren's mouth. He starts to sweat. 

Eren grips Armin's thigh with one hand and teases his balls with the other. 

Eren draws back for a second. "Is that ok?" he asks.

"Huh? I--oh my god. Yes. It's better than ok, it feels really good--" Armin gaps when Eren licks him again. 

"Hang on," Armin says. He leans back and lets his back arch deeply. He props himself up with one arm and grabs Eren's shaft with the other. Ok, he thinks. I'm not completely out of control--

"Holy shit," Eren comes up for air again.

"Hm?"

"Agh, no, it feels good..." Eren sinks into the mattress a little bit as Armin strokes him. "Ugh, god, and the view..." Eren runs his hand up Armin's abdomen. "Oh my god...can you lie down like this?"

"I think so," Armin says. He spreads his legs a little wider and lies back. Eren's moist cock touches the back of his neck. Years of stretching have finally paid off, Armin thinks, grateful to be flexible. 

Eren holds Armin's hips and licks him everywhere. Armin's spine tingles. He feels Eren's saliva drip down his skin and the heat of Eren's breath. 

God, he thinks. I want him to fuck me so badly. 

He lets all of his weight rest on Eren. For someone who claims to not know what he's doing, Eren is something of a scientist, Armin thinks. Always experimenting. And succeeding. Eren slips a curious finger into a Armin, very slowly.

Armin draws back slightly. "I really should, uh...I should go to the bathroom..."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. For sure. Take your time." 

**

Fuck.  
This is it. 

Eren breathes heavily. He opens the door to the living room and looks around instinctually as if by chance someone might walk in. He grabs the box of condoms off the kitchen table and sighs.

You don't even fucking know how to put one of these things on, Eren thinks. At least Armin has some practice...right?

Eren gives his half-hard cock another stroke. 

God, I don't want to mess this up. Do something weird, do something wrong. Armin's pretty patient and forgiving. But I still don't want to push it. 

Eren takes the box and the bottle of lube back into the bedroom. He pulls out a little foil packet and examines it. Then he looks at his phone, wearing down to the last of the battery. No texts from his mom or Mikasa, just a string of severe weather alerts.

At least if I do a shit job, I have the rest of the day to make it up to him, Eren thinks. It's not like we're going anywhere for a while.

Armin opens the door. The two of them just stand there for a moment, naked, looking at each other.

Armin smiles, walks up to Eren, and kisses him. A long kiss, the kind that makes Eren want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

When Armin pulls away, Eren feels a wave of unease. Ok. What now? He sits back on the bed. 

Armin reaches for the box of condoms. Wait a second, Eren thinks--who's topping? Eren feels mortified with confusion. He's not categorically against letting Armin do it, just unprepared and suddenly gravely aware of the tightness of his own body. 

Armin tears open the packet. The smell of latex is strong and unfamiliar, and Eren knows in a spilt second that the smell will always bring him back to this room, and to this exact mixture of lust and anxiety.

Armin massages Eren's cock for a few seconds and rolls the condom down his shaft. Eren finds the slick texture of it strangely pleasant. He shuts his eyes for a second.

"You all right?" Armin asks.

"Yeah," Eren says. "I just, uh...haven't...put one of these on before..." 

Eren contracts with embarrassment. To say the least, he thinks. 

"I know," Armin says. His smile is innocent and totally nonchalant. 

Eren looks at him for a moment. With anyone else, he expects he'd feel ashamed of not having done more with other people. All the raging confidence he has in his fantasies has evaporated, and now he feels like putty in Armin's hands.

And yet it's kind of comforting. 

Armin hovers over Eren, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him. "Do you want me to start off on top?" He asks.

"Uh, sure," Eren says. He lays back. I want you to do it all, he thinks, but sure, we can start with this. "I'm just...ugh. I'm going to last like, ten seconds," Eren says, wincing.

"It's ok." Armin cracks a smile. "It's easier the second time."

Eren smiles back. Armin's expression is fox-like, and Eren loves it.

"Plus I liked what you were doing with your mouth before," Armin says. "So there's always that." 

There is, but it's not how I want to get you off right now, Eren thinks.

Armin opens the bottle of lube and coats the condom with it. The feeling of it makes Eren shiver. 

"Sometimes I think you could just breathe on me, and it would make me come," Eren says.

Armin laughs. He kneels over Eren and fingers himself a little to spread the lube around.

"God, I could even just watch you," Eren says. "That would be..."

"Almost as good?" 

"Maybe," Eren says.

Armin doesn't give him time to hesitate. He licks and kisses Eren's neck again. 

Just go with it, Eren tells himself. Armin knows what he's doing, so let him. 

He grabs Armin's waist and Armin slowly presses himself back onto Eren's cock. 

Deep breaths, Eren thinks. He tries not to grip Armin too hard. The heat and tightness of it is overwhelming. 

Make me forget I exist.

Armin moves slowly at first, and it's better this way, Eren thinks, for Armin to set the pace. Eren wants to get a sense of what feels good to both of them, but it's hard to focus.

Devour me.

Armin slips his hands underneath Eren's neck and kisses him. Eren tries to relax, but tension builds in his body. 

Armin begins to move faster and fuck himself harder. His eyes are closed. His expression changes from dreamy and serene to tense and focused.

Come on. Just use me. I want to know what you want, you have to show me. 

Armin grips Eren's shoulders and arches his back a little more. His breathing gets harder. His hair brushes back and forth against Eren's collarbone. 

"Oh my god, Armin...your body feels so good..."

Armin smiles as he pants. Eren pushes Armin deeper onto him. But he realizes he also likes the feeling of being controlled. He tilts his head back, his eyes roll back into his head as Armin's body squeezes and sucks him.

Please. Come on. Get there...come for me...

It's too much for Eren. He seizes up.

"Shit," he says. "Armin, I'm sorry, I'm--"

Eren wraps his arms around Armin and clutches him as he comes. He grits his teeth. His body thrashes and bucks out of his control. 

Then he relaxes and sighs, delirious. "Oh my god..." he whispers. "I've never come that hard..."

Armin lies on Eren's chest for a moment. Eren doesn't want to let go of him. A sudden clinginess seizes him. For a few moments, everything ceases to exist but himself, Armin, and the bed. 

He feels Armin's weight pressing him back down as he breathes heavily, and the pressure of Armin's hard cock against his belly. 

"Oh my god," Eren mutters, his voice faint. "I thought I was going to pass out..."

"You can pass out," Armin says. He brushes Eren's neck with his nose.

"No, I can't pass out, it's your turn," Eren shakes Armin a little and it makes him laugh. Eren feels himself beginning to wilt inside the condom. He reaches for the base of his cock and pulls out slowly. 

Armin sits back up on his knees again and Eren ties the condom off in a knot. 

"Ok, come here," Eren says.

"You're ready?"

Eren cracks a smile. "Oh my god, just come here."

**

There's a little ache in Armin's body when Eren withdraws. He doesn't want to disappoint Eren or make him feel incompetent. But he would have liked to come first.

It doesn't matter. The hungry expression on Eren's face makes up for it all.

Eren licks Armin's cock again and Armin leans into the headboard. 

"Shit," Armin says. "That feels so good..."

Eren slips two fingers into Armin and it makes him wince. He sinks back a little onto them...it's so close...

Eren hooks his fingers slightly forward and Armin gasps. He feels his tip hit the back of Eren's throat. 

On second thought, maybe this is just as good. 

Armin's thoughts go hazy after that. His legs begin to quiver and feel weak. Eren pumps him slowly with his hand and drizzles his tongue down his shaft.

"Ah...Eren..." Armin leans back and pulls out of Eren's mouth. A bright line of semen hits Eren's chin and pools in the bit of his neck. 

Armin leans back on his hands. "Oh god...sorry..."

Eren just smiles and reaches for the tissues. He cleans himself up. 

Armin sinks back down onto Eren again. The condom and wad of spent tissues lie ignored on the corner of the mattress. 

Eren reaches for the back of Armin's neck and the small of his back. 

"I can't move," Armin whispers.

"Good," Eren says. "Neither can I." 

"I don't want to move," Armin says.

Eren kisses the top of Armin's head and the apartment is silent except for the sound of their breathing.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More snow-day fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I wanted to write more, but I figured it would be better to update sooner. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Armin lies half-awake on Eren's chest. There's nowhere to be. Nothing he has to do. He lets himself drift in the hazy, liminal state.

Everywhere I go, he thinks, I wish I were somewhere else. Everything I do, I'm just waiting for it to be over. I just wait for the next thing. I'm always in my head. I never get out.

Except when I skate. And now. 

Armin's mind feels like a beehive, constantly teeming and buzzing with anxious thoughts that never rest. The only things that seem to pull him out of it are the ice and Eren. 

The sound of Eren's stomach growling wakes both of them up. Armin laughs.

"What time is it?" Eren asks.

Armin swipes his phone off the table. "Ten fifteen," he says. "You want breakfast?"

"Uh...yes," Eren says.

They walk into the kitchen in boxers and sweatshirts. Eren borrows the dark green one of Armin's with the emblem of wings on the back. He leaves it unzipped. 

"Hey, where do you guys keep mugs?" Eren asks.

"By the fridge." Armin points to a cabinet. 

Eren sets to work on hot chocolate. "You want some?"

"Um...ok."

"Levi's not here." Eren whispers in Armin's ear. It makes him shiver.

"I know, I know."

"I had a dream about you, by the way," Eren says. He puts two mugs of water in the microwave.

"Really?" 

"Yeah, we were just...at the beach," he says. "Looking at some dolphins."

"Oh. That's really cool," Armin says. "I never remember my dreams much anymore. I guess I always wake up in a rush." He lays two bagels in the toaster oven. "When I was little I used to dream I was competing, but I didn't know my program. Or sometimes I used to dream I was out on the ice naked or something. But that hasn't happened in a long time."

"Naked ice skating," Eren says, grinning. "I could get into that."

Armin smirks. "Would you play naked hockey?" 

"What? Fuck, no." Eren instinctively crosses his legs and it makes Armin laugh. 

Armin thinks of all the locker room porn he has saved and bookmarked. 

"I'd do one of those naked bike rides, though," Eren says.

Armin laughs. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I think you have to be eighteen, though."

"Wow, what a shame. Well, soon enough."

Eren takes two packets of hot chocolate from the box. Armin expects him to put one into each mug of steaming water. Instead, Eren puts the first two into his own mug, then takes out another one for Armin. He sticks a candy cane into each of them. 

"Eren, what the hell?"

"What?"

"I'm getting a cavity just watching you!"

"I swear to god, you act like Levi is going to swoop in here any second and break your knees Tanya Harding-style."

Armin shakes his head. His face already hurts from grinning. 

Eren takes leftover cheesecake from the refrigerator, along with cream cheese for the bagels. 

"You're going to have cheesecake...and cream cheese on a bagel?" Armin asks.

"Oh yes I am," Eren says. "And so are you. Breakfast of champions." He puts a slice on Armin's plate, too, then kisses Armin's forehead.

They take their mugs and plates to the living room and lay them on the coffee table. Armin walks to the window and opens the blinds. 

"Whoa." The streets beneath them are barely visible. Strings of abandoned cars and buses fill Lake Shore Drive. 

Eren walks up behind him and wraps his arms around him. He rests his chin on Armin's shoulder. 

"Man, it's like the end of the world down there," Armin says. He lets himself sink back against Eren.

"What if it actually was the end of the word?" 

Armin sighs. Fuck. This is going to be cheesy. But I'm going to say it anyway. "Honestly? I'd be mad I didn't get to spend more time with you." He feels Eren smile.

Eren squeezes Armin tighter. "Really?"

"Yeah. But I'd also be happy I got to see you in the end."

Armin is immediately glad he spoke up. Eren lifts him up about an inch of the ground. He sets him back down and kisses his neck.

"I really like it when you do that," Armin says.

"Good. 'Cause I like doing it." Eren does it again. "Ok, I gotta drink this hot chocolate before it gets cold." He lets Armin go.

"What, you mean your syrup over there?" Armin sits next to him on the couch.

"Hey, don't judge."

"Eren. I can't not judge you for that." Armin takes a bite of bagel.

Eren slurps from his mug. "I think you're just jealous 'cause you're in the skating gulag, and I'm not."

"Yeah, I forgot, your coach is Captain America," Armin says. 

"What is Levi really like as a coach, anyway?" Eren asks. 

Armin swirls the candy cane around in his mug. "Oh my god. Eren. He is so weird. He is such a weird man."

Eren laughs.

"Does Mikasa not tell you about this?"

"I mean, she tells me some things."

"I don't know." Armin takes a sip, disappointed by how good it is. "I get the sense his life really sucked in Russia. Like I think that's why he got into skating to begin with--"

"Isn't that kind of why you do it too?" Eren looks up from his mug.

"Yeah. In a way." Armin says. He contemplates the cheesecake. "I mean, when I was a kid I got picked on all the time. But out on the ice nobody could catch me. They couldn't get to me out there. So...yeah. I was just...free, I guess."

"Sorry if that's like, too much--"

"No," Armin says. "You were right. You know, I even had to ask myself, when I was applying to the whole China thing...do you actually like to skate? Or do you just like to feel like you're better than everyone else?"

"Wow," Eren says.

"So then, just to test it out, I didn't practice for a few days, and I felt like I was going to go crazy. I missed it so much."

"But Armin..." Eren looks into his mug. "You already are better than everyone else."

Armin nearly chokes on a bite of bagel.

"I'm serious," Eren says. "I've never met anyone like you. You're like...not real."

Armin looks at his plate and sighs. Eren's words pull at him. Part of him wants so badly to believe it. "I meet a lot of people like me, at least in skating--"

"Ok, maybe they can skate, but they're still not you." Eren wears his fox-like grin again. 

Armin drinks his hot chocolate, unsure of what to say. "That's something Levi goes off about a lot," Armin says. "Standing out. Being distinctive. There's so many people competing. You have to be good, but people have to remember you."

"Anyone who wouldn't remember you has a brain like a walnut," Eren says.

Armin laughs. "Glad to know I leave an impression."

"What, is Levi telling you you don't?"

"Huh? No. That part...that part I think I got." Armin smiles in spite of himself. "It's the jumps that are getting me, mostly. They're killing me."

"I know," Eren says. "I've seen your knees. If I tried to jump in the air in ice skates, I'd knock all my teeth out."

"As opposed to someone else's for a change?"

"Exactly," Eren says. 

"You get yelled at a lot, don't you?" Armin takes a bite of cheesecake. 

"I'm used to it."

Armin shakes his head. "That kind of thing would mess me up for days."

"Levi doesn't yell, huh?"

"No, he just kind of glares at you, like he can see right through to your soul."

"I've seen that look," Eren says with a spooked expression.

"I still think he's a good coach, though. God, I wish I could skate like him." Armin sinks back into the couch and looks up at the ceiling.

"Nah," Eren says. "Don't skate like him. Skate like you." He leans over and takes Armin's face lightly in his hands to kiss him. 

The taste of hot chocolate on Eren's lips is funny at first, then comforting. Armin thinks of their date in Millenium Park, their knees stinging from falling. In that moment, he's glad that Mikasa skates, because it means Eren knows skating. He gets it. A lot of it, anyway.

Eren rests his forehead on Armin's collarbone and wraps his arms around his waist. For a moment he says nothing.

"Eren?"

"Please go out with me," Eren squeaks. He doesn't lift his head. He talks into Armin's chest.

"Huh?"

"I mean--" Eren squeezes him. His cheek feels hot against Armin's skin.

"What? No, you just...surprised me. Hey, Eren..." Armin runs his hand through Eren's hair. Eren remains glommed onto him, a column of embarrassment. "Thank you," Armin whispers.

"For what?" 

"Now I don't have to think about how I'm going to ask you out," Armin says. 

Eren contracts a little with laughter. He draws back.

"You are asking me to be your boyfriend, right?" Armin says.

"Yes," Eren creaks. He buries his head again. "I just...I've never had a boyfriend..."

"I know," Armin says. He plays with Eren's hair. "Neither have I."

"Wait, you didn't date Marco?" Eren looks up, and Armin notices the flush to his face makes his eyes look greener.

"Huh? No, we just...did stuff," Armin says. "Because we could...pretty much."

Eren groans with relief. 

"I mean, I still think he's hot," Armin says. Eren wilts a little. "But if that was actually going to work, I mean, I'd be dating him right now, right?"

Eren sighs. "It's ok." He cracks a smile. "I think he's hot, too. I like you better, though."

"Ok, then we're agreed that we're each slightly more attractive than Marco?"

Eren laughs.

"To each other, I mean," Armin says.

"Sure." Eren's smile is wide and bright. 

"Come here." Armin lies back on the couch and pulls Eren on top of him. 

**

Breakfast disappears. The plates remain on the coffee table. Armin lies with his head in Eren's lap.

Eren takes a deep breath.

Here you are. Here he is. Your new boyfriend. And you don't have to share him with anybody. Don't fuck it up. 

"I couldn't handle Marco," Armin says. "I mean, he's still one of my best friends, but..."

"I don't know if anyone can handle that guy," Eren says. It's ok, he thinks, just keep doing what you're doing. You got this far. You'll be ok. 

The news plays on the television in front of them.

"I would have gone crazy in China without him, though," Armin says. "He drives me crazy, but I would have been crazier alone."

"What about the rest of the company?" Eren asks. "You guys didn't get along?"

"Eh, it was ok," Armin says. "Some of them I'm keeping in touch with with, some of them, well...I don't know. Big personalities, I guess. Like Marco's got a big personality, but at least he's like a puppy that loves everyone, it's ok to have a lot of that."

Eren laughs. 

"Plus he just hugs everyone all the time," Armin says. He winces a little with shame. "I think I really needed that."

Eren sighs. "Yeah...I think I know what you mean. It's so weird. I hug my parents and Mikasa, and that's it. I never touch anyone else unless I'm checking them, basically. Is it weird that it's nice to hug Mikasa? Like I know she's my sister, and a girl..."

Armin looks up at Eren. "I think she gives good hugs." He chuckles. "I don't think I'd tell her that, though."

"Yeah, don't," Eren says. 

Eren plays with Armin's hair. Armin's eyes are half-open. Eren loves the serene, dreamy look on his face. 

The news shows piles of snow, more chains of abandoned cars all over the city. A family in the suburbs tunnels out their front door. 

"This is crazy," Armin says. "I've never seen snow like this."

"This calls for one thing," Eren says.

"What?"

"Pillow fort."

"But I don't want to get up," Armin says.

"It's ok," Eren says. "You can lie on the floor and I'll build one around you."

"Psh. Come on." Armin sits up. "I'm not that lazy."

"I didn't say you were lazy, I'm just letting you rest!"

"Whatever, let's go get blankets."

Armin grabs Eren's hand and pulls him toward the closet. He grabs a folded up blanket and tosses it to Eren. He pulls out an extra quilt and some pillows and carries them under his arm.

"Ok," Armin says. "We need structure."

"Chairs," Eren says. "From the dining room."

Armin snaps his fingers. "Right."

They each carry two into the living room. 

"Eh? What do you think?" Eren sets his down about six feet from Armin's.

"Yeah, that's good. Ok, now we need the roof..." He grabs one end of the blanket and shakes it out. Eren takes the other end. They drape it over the chairs. It's not long enough.

"Hm. You guys got an extra sheet?"

"Yeah." Armin retrieves one from the closet. "Hang on, let's make this first blanket the floor, and the sheet the roof." They try it again. "Ok, we gotta leave an opening so we can see the TV." He pulls the sheet back a little bit. "There we go." He grins.

"What if I take this quilt and like, stick it around the edges, like against the chair legs?"

"Wait, no. Couch cushions. Those are the walls. Then we'll put the quilt over them." Armin pulls two cushions from the couch and ducks under the sheet.

"Should we take the sheet off?" Eren asks.

Armin pokes his head out. "No, it's fine. Come on, hand me the other cushions." Eren obliges. Armin props them up against the chairs. 

Eren peers inside. He climbs in and sits next to Armin. He looks around. "Ok, what else does it need?"

"More pillows," Armin says. "I'll go get those, you set up the quilt."

Armin starts to get up, but Eren grabs his wrist. "Hey, not so fast." He pulls Armin back under the sheet and kisses him.

Armin smiles. "I'll be right back."

Armin comes back with a pile of pillows. He hands them to Eren through the gap in the sheet. They lay them out over the blankets on the floor. 

"Oh my god, this is great," Eren says. "It's like an igloo." He reaches for Armin and pulls him into his lap.

"Have you ever actually been inside an igloo?"

"No, but I've been to those ice caves in Wisconsin," Eren says. "It's kind of similar."

"I've never done that," Armin says. He leans back into Eren and lets Eren kiss his cheek, then his neck. "It's not like an igloo, though," he says. "It's more like a cloud."

"You've never been on a cloud," Eren says.

Armin smiles. "I'm off in the clouds all the time."

Eren considers making an angel joke, but decides against it. Too cheesy, he thinks. "I don't know, you seem pretty down to earth when you're around me." Wow, Eren thinks, that's just as bad. 

Armin laughs. "I guess you have that effect on me," he says. "It's part of why I like you." 

Eren grins wide, silent.

"What?" Armin asks.

"Nothing. I just...I still can't believe you like me," he squeaks. Around anyone else he'd be horrified at the register of his voice. 

Armin turns around in Eren's lap and sighs. He drapes his arms over Eren's shoulders. He shakes his head. "Man, I don't know how else to prove it to you."

"You don't have to do anything," Eren says. "It's just me." He kisses Armin again, then stretches out on the layer of pillows beneath them. His back cracks. He lets out a little groan.

Armin hovers over him. "You ok?"

"Ugh. Yeah," Eren says. "Sometimes I forget how much hockey beats me up until I get a break."

"No wonder Bert and Reiner have their spa nights," Armin says. "You want me to give you a massage?"

"Oh my god. Please," Eren says. "That would be amazing. I want to give you one, too."

"You know what would actually feel really good for that?" Armin says with a sheepish look. "Olive oil. I mean, I don't have like, actual massage oil--"

"I have no problem with this," Eren says. "Here, you get the oil, I'll get some towels."

Eren spreads towels out over the pillows. Armin comes back with a bowl of bright gold liquid. 

"Hey, don't they do oil wrestling in Turkey?" Armin asks.

"Yes," Eren says. "That is a thing that exists. And I bet a lot of the guys that do it are...very much in the closet."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Why, you want to fight me?" Eren asks.

"I don't know," Armin says. "I think I'd have to let you win."

Eren inhales sharply through his teeth.

"Ok," Armin says. "Lie down, you go first."

Eren pulls off his borrowed sweatshirt and lies on his stomach on one of the towels. Armin's slick hands feel divine. Eren tries not to make any embarrassing sounds as the tiny knots in his muscles crack beneath the pressure. Armin was right, Eren thinks. We are in a cloud, not an igloo, because I am in heaven right now.

"Holy shit, that feels so good," Eren says. 

"Good, 'cause I'm still not really sure what I'm doing."

"No, it's perfect." Eren sighs. "I don't want to fall asleep again."

"Now you're totally drenched in oil, which means you have to take another shower with me later," Armin says.

"Oh no, whatever shall I do?" Eren grins into the pillow. The long strokes of Armin's palms are hypnotically relaxing. But Eren feels himself getting hard again against the pillows beneath him. Well, the only thing better than having Armin slather him with oil would be...Armin covered in oil...

"All right," Eren says after a few minutes. "Your turn."

"Already?" Armin asks. "Your back's still kind of fucked up."

"I know," Eren says. "I just want to try it."

"All right, if you say so."

Eren watches Armin take off his sweatshirt. 

This massage is not going to last long. 

Armin stretches out on the pillows across from Eren. Eren's erection already tents the fabric of his boxers. Eren sighs as he dips his fingers in the oil.

Armin gives him a mischievous look.

"You're not helping," Eren says.

"What? You said it was my turn." Armin turns onto his side and props his head up with his palm.

"It is...you like driving me crazy, don't you?"

"You're already crazy," Armin says. "I just bring it out of you."

Eren laughs. "Roll over."

Eren lets the oil drip off his fingertips into a constellation on Armin's back. Then he rubs it in with long strokes. Eren is distracted by the heat of Armin's body and the texture of the oil on his hands. He realizes he's never been so aroused by his own hands on anything other than his own cock.

Armin twitches slightly. "Ah--there. Yep, that's it."

Eren's thumb slides over a knot that crackles from the pressure. Armin tenses up, then relaxes. 

"Wait, no, keep going, that felt good," Armin says.

Eren obliges. This is torture. 

Come on, Eren thinks. Just ask. Just ask him for what you want. If he says no, just ask again later, it's not a big deal. You can just go rub one out in the shower if you have to.

Why is it so hard just to ask?

The light in the fort is soft but Armin's skin still shines from the oil, and Eren loves the look of it. 

Eren lies down slowly onto Armin's back and Armin laughs. He wraps his arms around Armin's torso and kisses the back of his neck, then his cheek. The feeling of the oil between their skin makes Eren shiver. 

Armin turns his face to the side and lets Eren kiss him again. Eren glides one hand down Armin's stomach, and, as he hoped, feels Armin's erect cock pressing into the pillows beneath them.

His voice fails him, creaky and tight again. "Can we..."

Armin grins. "Yeah. I just need a minute."

"Yeah, of course," Eren says. 

He releases Armin and watches him disappear into the bathroom through the gap in the sheets. 

The smell of olive oil is potent. 

Oh god, Eren thinks. Popcorn's already been ruined for me. Is going to be another food I can't smell without thinking about...him? 

Eren pictures himself awkwardly concealing a boner at the next family dinner. 

But the feeling of it on their skin was so divine. Worth it.

Eren lies back on the pillows, his back pleasantly sore from being worked over by Armin's thumbs. He pours more of the oil into his hand and slicks it over his cock. 

Which is worse, Eren wonders: imagining what you want when you're not sure you can ever have it, or when you know you can, and you're just waiting? 

After a few minutes, Armin pokes his head back in through the flap.

"Hey," he says with a grin. Eren notices his face is flushed. 

God, Eren thinks. Don't push him away. 

Armin crawls inside the fort, lays a condom to the side, and hovers over Eren's chest. He takes Eren's slick cock in one hand and massages it, earning a pleasant shudder.

Eren tilts his chin up to kiss him. He slides his hands down Armin's back.

Slow down, he tells himself. Don't look desperate. If you look desperate, he'll look down on you. 

Eren wonders if it's worse for someone you want to date to look down on you, or to fall from grace with someone you're already going out with. But his body aches, painfully hard, and Armin's kiss pulls him back out of his thoughts.

Eren grips the inside of Armin's thigh with one hand and carefully slides a finger into Armin with the other. He feels Armin smile against his cheek. 

Oh my god, what the fuck am I doing, Eren thinks. I still don't really know what feels good to him.

"Hey," Eren says, "Will you, uh...tell me...if you like what I'm doing...?"

"Yeah, for sure," Armin says. He noses Eren's neck. "Actually...I liked what you were doing before...when you were kind of like, lying on my back..."

"Yeah? I can, uh, do that again..."

Armin lies on his stomach again. Eren takes his waist in his hands and kisses the small of his back. Then he stops for a moment, awestruck at Armin's perky butt, like you could bounce a quarter off of it. 

"What's up?" Armin turns around.

"I'm just admiring," Eren says. "You're just...perfect."

Armin sighs and sinks back down into the pillows, now covered in oil spots. "Far cry from being called a skinny rat last time I went to a public pool," he says.

Eren freezes. "Who called you that. I'm going to kill them."

"I don't know," Armin says. "That was like in the sixth grade, it doesn't matter. Here." Armin reaches for Eren's chin and kisses him. 

Eren lays back down onto Armin's back, but he hangs his head.

"What's wrong?"

"I just...I'm going to last, like, five seconds again, honestly. I can tell." 

Armin finds Eren's hand and intertwines their fingers. "I mean...you can always try again, it's not like we have to be somewhere."

I hate that you have to try so hard to make me feel better, Eren thinks. I wish I just didn't need it at all. 

Eren kisses Armin's neck and finds the condom. He peels the wrapper open and slips it on.

Come on, figure out how to fucking do this right.

Armin looks back over his shoulder with an expression that makes Eren want to die, though whether from happiness or unworthiness, Eren can't say. 

Armin arcs his back slightly. Eren rests one hand on Armin's upper back, and grabs his hip with another. 

Eren pushes himself slowly into Armin. He lets Armin's body relax around him before he goes further.

He doesn't just want it to feel good. Eren wants it to be perfect. Or at least...better than Marco.

Eren doesn't want to think about Marco right now. The sight of Armin taking him, and the shine on his beautiful back, snaps Eren back to reality. 

Armin meets Eren halfway and pushes his hips back, taking Eren deeper.

Oh god. To be wanted like that. It makes Eren's head spin. 

Ok, don't be too delicate, you'll look clueless. But don't just pound him, that's just as bad. 

Eren takes a deep breath and draws back slightly. He thrusts back into Armin. 

Come on, get into a rhythm. 

He sees Armin squint. A little bubble of panic builds until Armin says, "That feels...really good..."

There are no words Eren wants to hear more, except, perhaps. the satisfied groan Armin lets out next. 

Eren is fixated on the reactions from Armin, making him pant. The little shockwave through his body every time Eren pumps into him. If getting himself off on his own was like listening to a staticky radio, feeling the heat and tightness of Armin taking him is HDTV. 

A wave of dread sets in. Not yet, Eren pleads with his body. Please, just a little bit longer. Just get him there. Come on.

Eren remembers the flash of blonde from the skating rink, spotting Armin and being utterly stupefied. To think...the gorgeous guy from the rink, the one who could get anyone, wants you. Right here. Like this. 

I got what I wanted, Eren thinks. Or at least, I got close to what I want.

Oh, fuck. I'm so close. 

All the oil makes Armin sleek and nubile like a dolphin. The overwhelming tightness hasn't changed. The way Armin's body pulls him, the tight, hot squeeze around his cock makes Eren's eyes roll back in his head. 

Armin sinks down onto his forearms, like an offering. Eren finds Armin's cock and grips it lightly, he pulls Armin's hips up a little higher. Armin tilts his head to the side and grips the sheets. Eren watches the expression on his face, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open.

Then Armin looks up at Eren, hazy and doe-eyed. Better than any photo, better than any video. All mine. 

Oh no. 

When the surge of energy rips through Eren's body and releases, he lowers himself slowly back down onto Armin in a special mixture of ecstasy and despair.


End file.
